Meet Yoyo. An old ranch dog, one of many we have lost, mainly to old age, over the years. A Border Collie cross, a faithful, much loved, companion until last year. But this is actually a story of many dogs my husband and I will long remember. It began with Liza Jane, affectionately nic-named Beanso, back in 2000. She was born on Goundhog Day, and since yesterday Punxsutawney Pete saw his shadow again (it's been a long winter out east) it made me think of Liza. She was a beautifully grand dog, a Great Shepnard (Great Dane/ German shepherd/St. Bernard) topping 125 lbs and quite the character who shaped our lives for the next 11 years. We bought tons of kibble, dog beds, furniture, vehicles, even a home, all to accommodate her needs. Worth every cent, too. 

Then there were the Border Collies. We bought a perfect purebred female pup from dear rancher friends and named her Keiki, child in Hawaiian. She was all about herding livestock and passed this trait on to several generations of astonishing herding dogs we raised. Sold a few to enthusiasts as well. A breeder said Keiki was "on the bit," meaning she was high strung in horseman lingo, a gross understatement.

Out of her we owned and loved Tux, Viking, Dice, Salvahe, Olaf, Ned and others who went to far flung corners of the country.  This encompassed decades spent on ranches from Wyoming to Arizona, California to Missouri. Chapters with many adventures indeed. Always with some sort of livestock they loved to be in control of, when allowed. 

I've made artwork of most of them, and haven't mentioned them all such as the Aussies, Raisin and Dan'l. They were very good with the livestock as well, and had a bent toward being watchdogs, something I appreciated given the remote locations we inhabited. 

It has been fun to capture their likenesses for perpetuity in artwork, to try and pin their personality types in oil paint. Remembering the puppy times, the hardships of always having dogs, the incredible payoffs and folks who considered us strange for our pack of canines. Each one had a job, quirks, and a nic-name. Vike was Bob Barker. Raisin was Annabelle Lee, Yoyo was originally Jojo, but we resorted to the Spanish pronunciation a sheep herder insisted on calling him. Ned was Nedley Darling, and Salvahe (wild) was originally Gypsy, but went wild on the Red Desert for a month until humanely trapped, resuming loyal family member status.  Not kids, but pretty darn good fur babies, I gotta say. 

Nowadays we have Texas Blue Heeler rescue, Corrie Borealis, and our Malonois X, Wilhelmina (Meanie). Never a dull moment, they keep us on our toes and are great company. Oh, yeah, they are happy to herd too.   

If you've had pets, especially dogs, you know. What a gift. Sometimes challenging. They'll make you laugh, curse, and cry. But in the end, they are a huge part of the sweet milestones life is made up of.  Like Groundhog Day for us. Because of Beanso, we don't much care if the rodent sees his shadow or not. But never a year goes by when we don't entertain the happy memories of being owned by a fabulous character who never dies in our hearts, along with the other pack members we have shared our years with. Wags to your good health.              

While viewing an enjoyable Zoom by my website hosts today I was inspired to find Western artist, Steve Atkinson, being interviewed along with wife Ann. Born in Ohio, and in Prescott, AZ for many years he developed his art, and style becoming a truly great talent in his genre. I believe he began in illustration and does representational art depicting scenes from yesterday and today. He went west to experience and capture the real cowboy western lifestyle.

This led me to ponder my own walk in life and my ongoing journey as an artist. I don't always share that I have actually been a bonafide cowgirl for many decades of my days on earth. I began riding in New Jersey, probably before I could walk, my horsewoman mother teaching me the ropes of riding. Her style was English as she hailed from across the pond herself. I cut my teeth on westerns and by age 2 rocked a large, hand carved, wooden rocking horse on my porch, inching back and forth across the deck while imaging the wild west and playing a 45 record of cowboy songs as I rode. 

As one might imagine, my dreams grew larger than life and by age 14 I headed west for the first time, with our 4-H club, to ride at Eaton's iconic guest ranch, the oldest one in Wyoming. I never stopped owning and finding horses to ride, and eventually left California, where my family later transferred to, for Hawaii.  I wore many hats surviving there, and eventually ended up back in cowboy hats, first in the local rodeo on Maui, and later as wife of the manager of Maui's largest cattle ranch. 

At one point I figured I might have spent more time on the back of a horse than on my own two feet. I helped with ranch work weekly, and for 10 years was a tour guide and  wrangler on a trail ride for tourists across the ranch lands. It was a life few can really even imagine, and I loved just about every minute of it. Not that it was without hardships and incredibly hard work. 

Later I moved to Wyoming and continued in the ranching tradition, raising cattle and horses, and sometimes sheep and goats. More hard work and intense long days. But, oh, the payoff in vistas of vast ranges, mountains, and skies of the wild and wooly west.  I participated in all aspects of the ranch work and chores, often solo if my hubby was off doing some project, with only the assistance of one of the incredible stock dogs we trained. We rode and sold horses, many of them, and it is only a wonder of grace that I never got seriously hurt. 

Today people meet me, an artist and musician, and they likely don't suspect the crusty gal who really abides underneath a rather demure exterior. Once in a while I share about my cowgirl days, which are somewhat behind me as the years pile up. More often, I suppose I just let them believe about me what they will. 

But as an artist, I am thinking that maybe I should showcase more of the memories and experiences I have had. I am not sure folks would really believe the experiences I've chalked up, so will continue to keep much of it under my crumpled hat. But as I write this, I feel it is an important era to preserve, and will intend to do more western art. 

After all, some of the ranch lands I've ridden have already met the challenges of change. Certainly, some of the fantastic cowboys and paniolos I've been blessed to ride beside are gone to the next range in the sky. 

I've thought of switching from my beloved Quarter Horses to a Missouri Fox Trotter, a smoother ride for older bones. One day I may just ride a rocker, not a rocking horse, but if I can express a bit of the good life on canvas and in song, I will continue to. Because once a cowgirl, always a cowgirl. 

Until we meet again, Happy Trails to You. 

I love the nighthawks. They visit our Wyoming oasis each year, and unbelieveably return to the same trees they roosted in before. That is, after migrating south thousands of miles over the winter.  It is like they are family. 

Watching their graceful gliding pattern never ceases to amaze me, the white spots under each wing distinctive and noticeable. The night hawks aren't large birds, just medium large. True to their name, they take to flight at dusk and with unusually large mouths scoop the air for insects. Therefore, we have very few mosquitoes. They rest all day on the chosen branches they love in the cottonwood trees surrounding our house. They seem to prefer bare branches easily accessible. It has become a game for me to try to spot and count them all summer. But they are so camouflaged, it is truly difficult to see them. They look just like bark. 

Yesterday I caught a photo as one lifted off a pole it had landed on. The sharp curve and tips of the wings were highlighted against our Wyoming clear sky. Simply seeing this sight, a brief moment in time, intrigued me, and the pic ended up being a current source of wonder and inspiration. I pondered human imagination all we possess to capture wonder and joy daily. 

There is so much talk about AI lately, and I tend to join the conversation about its pros and cons, but do lean to being troubled by the cons. And here the thought came home to rest. In the natural world I am blessed to live within all around in my home there is constant stimulation. The clouds alone of these great rolling plains are astonishing. AI, while useful in degrees, doesn't seem to set my mind and heart on fire like sky watching, or even some bird watching. 

So today I allow my creativity to blossom wherever it may. I'm human and limited. But I am me, unique, and unpredictable in a fun sort of way.   It is my hope that my fellow man clings to their uniqueness and soar in their own imagination and creativity going forward in 2025 and beyond. I look forward to seeing what they come up with--without AI. 

Meanwhile, I will go count the nighthawks and let my own mind take wing.

Change is inevitable and as a family of planet earth we strive to basically get along and survive.  Always adapting, and feeling our way along. Feeding one's creative nature provides peace and contentment in a hurried world that sometimes seems to be spinning out of control. Art fuels a deep primal need in man. 

Hanging a beautiful landscape over the mantel, painting a small or large masterpiece (or trying to) or giving gifts handmade with meaning add unanticipated value to our days. The weeks flee by, and what is it that we remember in the end? Isn't it the entertainment, a beautiful song, a play, concert or stroll through an art museum? Do you remember the handmade gifts given from the heart? Of course we do. For me, those times stand out vividly far beyond the drudgery we all engage in daily which a blur together. 

How might we increase the time we stay in any sort of creative mode opening brain pathways that spark fulfillment? It is worth taking a look at. Maybe the reader will spend a few minutes considering this. Only the individual can really say what truly inspires them. So many pursuits exist to jumpstart the mind. In a day and age of consumerism, especially of the bombardment of media, it is so refreshing to chill out, calm the savage beast of the brain and enjoy something, anything, which primitive man might have enjoyed. A fresh field of wildflowers, the look of a storm over the wooded hills, inrolling waves or a meal made from scratch with natural ingredients.  

Naturally, as an artist, I believe art can move the viewer into a zone of the mind that feeds the soul. Sounds nebulous, but is it? Man scratched scenes on cave walls for various reasons, and we still appreciate those for various reasons.  I picked up an arrowhead once, a tiny reddish stone knapped into a fine point, perhaps to kill a bird or a rabbit by some hunter in a day unimaginably long ago. I still marvel at the question of who last touched this treasure. 

I don't know if anyone will love my art created in the 21st century in some distant year to come. But the point is, time froze long enough for me to put paint on a canvas and express my inner person in albeit a fleeting way. Do you use colored pencils, pastels, or plant a colorful bed of herbs or flowers? Do you have art hanging you or a family member or a talented artist made?  The zone is wide open for those who wish to venture in. 

Join a segment of the tribe of man who thrive on any type of art or creativity. It needn't cost much or anything. But the payoff is unmeasurable, huge. Do I have paint on my nose? Maybe, but perhaps I'm a bit pleased I do.   

Dreams. We all seem to have them, both waking and sleeping. I haven't posted for a while, but realize that sharing the dream in 2025 is just a good way to start off a year on a dreamy, yet realistic foot. Long winter nights seem to lend to dreaming, and this is a good place to find joy and inspiration. If dreams are scary we might learn something, but the dreams that inspire me most have to do with the seemingly impossible, the stunningly beautiful, even swimming in the waves of massive currents we could never control. 

Where might art meet these personal voyages into the unknown? How might our dreams inform our art, and even be able to be shared with others, all without the clunky medium of words? Do you do art? Do you share art, or offer to have others buy it?  Don't hold back!  I am often surprised at what sells fast, or what charms people, or paintings selected to give as gifts. Art is a broad word, but something even cave men seemed to require in ancient times. We are wired for loving art! 

Paintings freeze a moment in time. They may freeze a thought or just a brushstroke, but there is something entrancing about that frozen moment, as if we could halt our own embodiments even for an hour. That's what I think I love most about art. A human's expression with inspiration from a deeper source that one may not even be fully aware is at work. 

So, experiment with creativity this year. Consuming creativity, thinking out of the box, and just letting go, pulling back the curtain and exploring the possibilities of a dream. Your dream, my dream, our collective earthling's dreams. Cheers to a great 2025! 

   Maui has been on my mind daily recently following the tragedy with the fires in Lahaina. As a longtime former resident of the island the horror and sadness of it struck me to the core. I know the town well and even worked there years ago, for a mobile veterinary clinic. How I loved our trips to Lahaina, meeting the nice people, their animals, and going out to eat along Front Street with the doctor each time. Later so many memories were created there in all sorts of daytime activities and glorious evenings along the water. 

So many residents were lost to the fire and homes gone. Pets were lost and sorrow looms everywhere. The entire Hawaiian community is shaken. The fires will always be remembered, and some families are completely gone or will never be the same.

On a lesser scale of hardship, there were countless pieces of beautiful artwork in the local galleries, and losses the artists and store owners incurred were substantial. A disaster like this is hard to reckon with. Placing values on the destruction seems almost impossible.

Now is the time for artist survivors to paint, sing, and write letting this activity help heal their hearts. Not a time for trying to capitalize on loss, but a time to allow the pain to express through creativity. Perhaps some beauty can shine through to bless that part of us as Americans who collectively have lost a little corner of paradise. Locals have lost a part their homeland and community and it is difficult in every way. The rest of us no longer will even have the chance to stroll old Lahaina town as it once was for hundreds of years into the present. 

A treasure is gone. More importantly wonderful souls are no longer with us. As a former Mauian it is a place that still holds home status in my heart. I have family in Maui County. As an artist I decry the damage done, and want to paint as I remember, but am almost too sad to try. May aloha bring beauty to this devastation, as I hear it is already doing, and may our prayers bring restoration to some degree out of the ashes. To anyone who lost a family member, our grief crowds your greater losses. We cry tears with you. 

There really are no words, yet when artists pick up a brush in months and years to come, or when a singer holds his instrument, may some living inspiration help heal these tragic wounds. Then one might still whisper, "Maui No Ka Oi." 

They catch the eye. They stimulate the heart. They are pieces of art made with passion we randomly see in the course of life. 

Don't we all have a favorite artist, or style of art that moves us in unexpected ways? This is why even governments set aside funding for the arts for their people who add to economies, communities, and families. The arts are so us. Each uniquely made, just like we are. And we love the inspiration that is the complex world of art. Can we even thrive without it? 

Put a newborn in a plain white room with no stimulus, and they wither. Add colors and sounds, moving things and faces of those who care, and they blossom into members of a fruitful society. We are wired with inquiring minds that process best when a variety of stimuli are available. 

During the course of our life our tastes for art may change. In fact, they usually do. As a child I loved my horse books and adventure stories about people who overcame. The illustrations made me marvel and wonder.  I still recall my mother reading Winnie the Pooh to me on her lap and relating utterly to the illustrations of those timeless stories.

Later, I loved tropical scenes, the mountains of the masters like Albert Bierstadt, and pencil sketches and paintings of cowboys on the range. Remington fueled my passion for the arts. To stroll through museums in Europe was an epic treat for me in the 1990s. And to visit the Old West Museum in Cody, Wyoming, was to walk through time and beauty. Nowadays I even have found an interest in abstracts. Perhaps I am evolving with age. 

With Valentine's Day on the calendar, we will see commercial art, but also heartfelt works from highly skilled brushes. Personally, I look forward to the introspection this will bring. I will observe. I will adopt ideas of my own. I shall mail an original hand painted notecard out to a couple friends and compose one for my true love, my husband.  

I relish the freedom of living in a country that still allows expression in the arts. Like the hand of God in the Cistene Chapel, He reaches down and the touch of Life infuses us. We create our art beneath His wings, and we learn each day a little more about art, and a lot more about Love.  

What to paint? Is it not the artists dilemma? We flounder around or may be controlled by a destiny that rolls out before us which even might control us to a point. But as an artist who sits down almost daily to paint, the blank canvas sometimes speaks in accusing tones that challenges my very core. 

   The solution is nebulous, and so I found that many mentors and by standers are just saying "Paint what inspires you." So, in doing that I have found my craft slipping. Deep introspection has brought me to another breakthrough. I believe what I, for one, really need to do is take the action required to paint what ends up looking good. At least to me, if not the majority of viewers. 

   Because if I paint what inspires me, I may not be very good at that particular art, as often as not. I could stick to a genre I like such as landscapes, which is one of my better venues, but there is unlimited material to paint in this wonderous world and not every landscape will be a standout or even particularly inspirational. Above average talent lends to beauty of any craft, and until that level is consistently attained is there reason not to paint, or reason to give up? I think not. We are artists. We do art and create as a way of life and a likely a calling.

   Some paint what they believe will sell, a trap in itself. Been there. The results often left me hollow and annoyed.  Especially if no sales ensued. Hang up the brushes and move on? Probably not. So, in the meantime, I aim to paint what is beautiful, well composed, has a heart, and done with fewer brush strokes and a goal of creating something the eye is pleased with seeing again and again. I may even paint less, but at least I have a solid goal in the journey as an artist. Telling a story in some way on canvas is beautiful. A different sort of beauty for different tastes. What is beautiful today may look different to you or to me than what looks beautiful tomorrow. A simple goal, but a sound one: Paint beauty. 

Stress. Who needs it? Not sure any of us do. But who doesn't get a heaping helping of stress just being a resident of planet earth. While some is unavoidable, we don't have to buy into the stress bandwagon unnecessarily. Enter the incredible world of art. 

There is something about a serene lake in the mountains that relaxes the mind. Or maybe it is seeing a child reading a bedtime story on a parents lap. A kitty curled up, or a brilliant sunset as seen from the porch deck. Different views trigger a peace release in different folks. What is your unwind vision? For me it tends to be a beautiful landscape. Perhaps with a herd of grazing animals.

Isn't it wonderful how simple it's become to add a peace-trigger in the form of a favorite art subject to include in our home decor? One doesn't have to own a mansion. Art graces a farmhouse kitchen, an urban apartment or even a busy office. Ahhh. And most of us can easily afford a piece or two of our chosing.  

Here are four ways we might allow art to add peace this week (because, well, why wait?). 

1. Make art

2. Make a spontaneous purchase of artwork .

3. Give a gift of art. 

4. Include art in your landscaping. 

Run wild with the ideas. Sit down with a child or friend and create. Peruse an art website and make a purchase that suits your budget. Make an art trip of any length, taking landscape pics then visiting a show or museum. Pick up a gift during your outing, perhaps for a friends special occasion. Think of your yard as a place where art can be displayed, with banners, garden art, a porch leaner, or portable mural. 

My guess is that just comtemplating the possibilites relaxed you to some degree. Our eyes translate the vision to our hearts and soul. A spark of joy is ignited. It doesn't have to be complicated. It just has to stike you, and bring a smile. And smiles reduce stress. Three cheers to the artists who with a simple idea create the multitude of works which make us smile.   

Good day, art lovers who thrill at displaying original artwork in home and office. Art on canvas, paper, metal, correspondence, clothing, useful items, and even murals simply jazz up our days.  Don't those of us who receive our inspiration through ocular vision (which is most of us) feel emotional stimulus via the infinite moods of artwork?  

Today there is a growing trend towards artificial intelligence created art, but the human who wields a brush, palette knife or other instrument of creativity is able to instill an element of life, of soul, and emotion into their pieces which is unique to the living human experience. 

Creating art is generally a challenge of great fun, but I find living with art is the most wonderful ongoing treat. The artist has captured a moment in time, an emotion or place. A feeling or a vision.  Art transports us into another world and takes our mind off the worries of the day. This is medicinal. 

We all ought to display some original art by a human. Even if it is a child's art on the fridge door. It's sweet. It's unique and it conveys dedication and love. Artwork plunks the artist and the viewer into the perspective of time. Memories molded by art is a definite spice of life. Hang some in your personal space. You'll be surprised what flavor you might stir up into the potent sauce of life.