I wrote this piece for my friend Dart. I am not sure if I answered his question. Because I am an artist when I go to paper I am usually surprised by what she wanted to say about art. So here is the artists answer and I had no idea it was there like that.

I have always been an artist. Ever since I was a little girl. I had just forgotten. Life had side tracked me big-time.

My dad and grandma died within in a year of one another of pancreatic cancer. It’s a smokers cancer and guess what I did for 30 years? That was major concern when I went the doctor in 1998 for upper right abdomenal pain that was constant.  Although I had waited 6 months. My family doc assured me if it were pancreatic cancer I would already be dead. My dear cousin was very sick with a terminal cancer that finally got him and he was young and I was scared. I had just given birth to my last child. It had been a very traumatic past 3 years, me and my twin girls were close to death. One died and the other almost did with a very long stay in the NICU. This situation had left my heart quit broken.  I was also always tired, in pain while working, running an Inn and raising 5 kids under the age of 13. So when John, who was fighting his cancer, suggested I begin a juice fast I listened. I picked up a book called “The 3 day energy fast.” and read the whole thing. It didn’t take me on the path I expected; instead it asked me questions I couldn’t answer. It asked me to look inside myself for clues to my own joy. Name 10 things you LOVE to do? I was stumped. What I could ingest didn’t count, like, eat, read, watch a movie or TV. It had to be things I did interactively with the world or myself. After 2 days of no sure answers I slipped into a deep sadness. It was obvious I was suffering from a great amount of neglect beginning with me. I had neglected me; caring for everyone else always. I started to understand why woman in my position were dropping like flies from breast cancer; beaching themselves like whales in a mass slaughter and I understood deeply. Living had become so much of a chore under the circumstances I had created for myself. All work and no play had made me a very sad girl.

I began my list of 10 things not with what I loved, because I really didn’t know, but with what I thought would bring me joy. Looking for clues, I went back to when I was little growing up on Sunset beach in San Francisco. Days at the beach. So my list began this way.

When I was little I liked to.

1)      Color in the coloring book.

2)      Paint in the coloring book.

3)      Make sand castles.

4)      Play in the water.

5)      Watch the clouds and see the shapes they made as they drifted by.

6)      Bake and cook.

7)      Go to the stationary store for art supplies.

8)      Write stories.

9)      Make my own drawings.

10)   Tell Stories and Talk Talk Talk

11)   Ice skate.

12)   Climb rocks camp anywhere.

13)   Be with animals

Then I made another list. What do I think I might like doing and if I knew I wouldn’t fail and what would I like to try?

1)      Kayaking.

2)      Hike Yosemite.

3)      Paint watercolors like Georgia O’Keefe.

4)      Photograph people really well.

5)      Write stories and scripts and poetry.

6)      Go back to school and learn something I love ART.

7)      Teach kids sort.

8)      Learn to really draw.

9)      Make beautiful events and weddings.

10)   Cook amazing food.

11)   Ride horses again.

Although I was a mother of 5 and loving them and raising them, I knew that if I were dying I wasn’t living the life I wanted to the fullest. My husband bought me kayaks and cross country skis. We went to the lake a lot and camped. I became a skilled gardener, cook and painter. I took night classes, for me time. I learned to draw what I saw. I began to have an insatiable appetite for life. The switch got flipped and now there wasn’t enough time in the day to do all the things I wanted. I let the bed making go, drying dishes and only pulled weeds when the other plants were small. I cut corners in areas that weren’t important and put energy into what was. I started reading and doing “The Artist’s Way” by Julie Cameron (I recommend anything Julie) and I am totally with her. I wasn’t taking care of my inner artist. The first summer painting class I took with a bunch of artists I sat in the back and cried because I was so happy. I know its sounds creepy but that is the first time I really saw my inner person. She was crying. There was someone in me that needed this more than I knew. I had no idea about me until I started crying.  I was actually going to get to paint. I had buried my inner artist so deep I didn’t know I had a need, but my spirit was dying slowly. I began to take full responsibility for me on all levels. It took courage and time. Try telling a strong man and 5 children NO. It’s my time. I could see why woman cave. At first I wasn’t supported. They fought me. I was taking away their caretaker. Their on call fix it person, but I knew if I were going to survive this life with them for the long haul I had to take care of me first. So I picked up the oxygen mask and dug a moat around myself and for sheer self preservation began to take slices of the day for me.

The rest of the story was easy compared to the last part. What I went through was like childbirth and I have given birth naturally 5 times. I was being born again to me. The outside path for me was easy. I surfed the web daily for artist I liked. I came upon three whose work resonated for me, made me feel something deeply when I looked at their work. I looked at thousands of images and was left with loving these artists most. I have come to know them all except Steve. Nancy Collins, Birgit O’Conner and Carol Carter and one man Steve Hanks (I don’t know him, but wish I did). All geniuses in their own rights. The more I study their work the more I realize they are beyond talented. I found them all in 1998 they had all been painting for a decade before I found them.  They are all published, all have numerous gallery representation and all are living working artists, making money off of what they love.

This told me my path as a watercolor artist was/ is a process. I will be in process the rest of my painting days. So don’t get too impatient, check my expectations, practice and plan. The only way to speed up the process of becoming better is to paint more. I go to MAC at least once a year if I could afford it I would go every quarter. I have looked at each artist’s paintings, all of their paintings.  I have taken 5 workshops with Nancy Collins. Her color theory class accelerated my paintings made them glow because WC (watercolor) is a science. I would still be painting mud if not for her. Her beginning WC class is essential. Birgit is a master at composition and value. She can hit it in one application. That’s like hitting a homerun every time. Steve, I still have no idea how he does it and he is not teaching his technique. 12 years of searching for him, I still haven’t found him teaching. Carol is anomaly all to herself, she has pushed the envelopes of uniqueness as a watercolorist and I predict huge things for her. She is a first. I think all of these artists are masters. Watercolor paints have chemicals in them that react to one another. It is well known WC is the hardest media to master. I had no idea when I started how tough it was going to be, but I don’t make murky paintings because I have learned so much from Nancy.  I took her color theory class and translated into a language for 4^th 5^th and 6^th graders. They know what bridges, blooms and bleeds are.  Two of my favorite watercolor blogs are Handprint and Brush paper paint. I have learned so much from handprint. I can even go to my favorite artists palettes.

Saying watercolor artist’s say. Keep your brush wet, but don’t leave it in water. Let the water do the work. If you are having too much fun STOP you are killing it.

I love painting, writing and photography because what I really am is a storyteller and my path has been such a rich journey for this I am so grateful. I never did do the juice fast, instead I became an artist and now I also drink juice.

some of my paintings from this week.

a wash lesson in value

Jane on a full sheet of 300lb

I wrote this in 2005 and it still feels true. This winter I have been painting and photographing the things I am attracted to. I am in winters cacoon and I am excited to see what I will be in the spring. I hope a more practiced artist.

MY ARTISTS STATEMENT
I still think after these many years of consciously trying to make the connection with my source, to create art, that art and it’s process are a mystery.
      There are things, aspects about art, I understand, predictable things, such as the elements of design, how water moves on paper or how certain paints mix. For instance, I will go to the watercolor table feeling inadequate (that is part of my process)  or I’ll know that my definition of art is ever evolving. I know  100% of the time when I go to the table, the camera or the computer, I doubt I will be able to come back with anything valuable, interesting or meaningful or that would cause an emotion when viewed or heard. 80% of the time I’m pleasantly surprised that I am wrong.  I know that I’m the conduit not the conductor. Although, I pay careful attention to what grabs me visually. Also especially when I have a deep sense of understanding when I hear something, even if I’m hearing the words for the first time. Connection to someone’s artwork, someone connecting to mine, me connecting with the infinite, it all seems natural.
       When I write poetry I’m diving head first into the subconscious, never knowing what I’m coming out with. When I paint I go into the process with a pretty solid plan which usually falls apart mid-stream, when I get side tracked into how a color mixes on the paper and I want more of how that makes me feel.  When I photograph it is planned and intuitive. Intuitive wins always.
      Art for me is the great recycler of all the aspects of life. I am not consciously able to articulate or intellectualize much of what I experience as a human being. Like the beauty of a sunrise, first spring flower, a newborn babe, expecting mother, a couple deeply in love or flip it; the horror of famine, war, child abuse. Even as a writer I cannot reach the depth of my emotion with the words. I call myself an artist because I express myself, in a creative way with paint, words, film, but we could take it further, cooking, decorating, gardening, mothering. How I express myself artistically is up for defining, I want artistic expression in almost every aspect of my life. The process of seeing something that triggers an emotion, that emotion is what I carry with me when I recreate it in my form, and then ironically, the viewers, not knowing my emotional intention, walk away feeling the way I originally did when I first discovered the subject. It’s like taking my love by the hand and saying “Come here. I want to show you something.” But, most of the time the something is just for me and ultimately my creative or artistic translation of it. 
    I paint, take pictures and write because I need to. When I don’t, I feel pent up, irritable, discontent and restless. Painting is a form of therapy, like journaling, I do that too, but somehow painting recycles; transforms through color, form and technique. Creating takes loneliness, frustration, fear, grief, doubt, guilt, shame and the affliction of self and transform them all into faith and peace for me. This is only true, however if I commit to create, even if it turns out to be junk. If I have any sort of expectation of myself, then my internal critic is alive and well and causing me great distress because I will believe what it tells me. I must battle to create, battle for time and space and then ultimately myself. Just getting to the table and getting my paintbrush wet is a miracle.
   As a photographer, although I have some technical understanding of the lighting science, I feel my true talent is to know when to click. Rainbow in the meadow, click, child focused on the rocks in the water, click, my daughter staring straight into my lens with the essence of her soul, click. I don’t agonize over my pictures like I do with my paintings and writing. However, when I begin to edit film, I am again surprised by the kinds of emotions the camera picks up. I always get something I didn’t expect. Hence the mystery shows me one more time who is in control. Now, to me, that’s art. 
   I see art in any form, a mystery, like birth. I know to become a specialist at it will demystify it, probably quite a bit. Being part of that mystery, connected to it, when I’m in the creative process is what I crave. That’s why I do it. Art satisfies a craving, that hasn’t been satisfied in any other way. I am therefore a selfish artist. I do it to satisfy myself.
    When I feel disconnected from my art, I read anything by Julie Cameron, author of “The Artist’s Way”, and many other great books.  She is the great artist’s midwife. 
    I teach watercolor to elementary school students and I believe every human is a creative, some just don’t know it. I also believe that the only requirement for being an artist is courage.  Get that one down and all the other attributes come easy.
  I am so grateful for the way in which I am able to live and create and none of that would be possible without the love and undieing support ( in heart and pocket book) of my dearest friend and husband. I am one blessed person.

The middle of winter in Lake Almanor

I have a few friends that all left for the winter for 4 month stints. We call them snow birds the snow comes they leave. I get it, if I could, I would too. For the first time in years I felt jealous. I didn’t really want to face another winter it’s hard and long and takes a lot of courage and determination to care for myself and my family and for the most part there aren’t many fun parts. I don’t like it when sonny days end. Summer is my favorite season.

I have found joy in the snow but I am jaded, finicky about the snow. It needs to be a certain way for me to ski on it. So I wait for optimal conditions. Like yesterday, perfection , but I waited too long to get out on it and I didn’t want to contend with a pack of very hungry coyotes in freshly made snow mobile tracks that gave them the freedom to fly their dens and come for us, me and my 3 dogs.  We went out just before dusk, not smart on this wild meadow.

Winters are extra long at 5000 ft. We don’t get to see spring till May.  We are buried in snow till mid April at times. I can’t plant gardens till June 1^st for fear of hard frosts and they have knocked out all my tomatoes sometimes in mid June. Winters are really long here and they are dark too and I suffer from sluggishness, lethargy and apathy (winter depression) I have to fight hard with exercise, sunlight, ott lights, keeping moving, yoga and vitamins, fish oil, flax oil and D-3 are key and added to my daily vitamin regimen. Because we are in a remote area there is not much socializing. The closest movie theater is an hour away. I have learned after 16 winters to adapt to my environment. Making myself ski, cooking well, Netflix.  I always have plenty to do, but during long dark days I do it, I just don’t feel as enthusiastic as I am accustomed to feeling.

And so, the snow finally came and along with it days of no electricity. We adapted. Our house is heated with wood heat and we have propane stove and hot water heater. I have a huge porch that faces the meadow with ice chests on it. Because of the precariousness of where we live I have always kept pretty hefty supplies and set our home up to live without  electricity if need be. We have land lines for phones as well.  We are never behind a day on vacuuming, dishes or laundry and we keep tons of frozen blue icies in the freezer so we can keep the fridge cold too. It was a small hiccup to lose electricity. I only kept out one camping lantern so I cleaned the kitchen with my 8 hour battery pack video light I use for weddings. I had enough charge to cook and clean by it for 4 days.  We have fans that circulate the heat all over our house so when we lost electricity I put giant pots of water on the stove and let the hot vapor heat the house and it was faster and permeated every room.

We went winter camping. 6 Of us worked and ate together. We read and saved battery charged computers for a family movie 500 days (I hated it). We have a giant generator that will run our whole spread, but I wanted my children to adapt and excel. Roll with it, like the whole town had to. We did set up the generator for the freezer just in case.

On day 3 the complaining started and I am one for a good bitch but not about winter, it’s too hard already, a car ride has never been shortened or made easier by complaining and pushing my will about when are we going ot get their.  I won’t allow it and I assume like gallbladders, natural childbirth and appendixes there is a purpose to winter maybe for the regeneration and rejuvenation of my soul. I never came out of a winter not wanting to face sunny day in fact I come out grateful. I am grateful for electricity and snow on the meadow and winter because I am always relieved when it’s over and grateful we made it through.  I am grateful for snow and winter and husbands and children and dogs and woodstoves and propane and skis and paints and kindles and planning and the fact I am Boy Scout and prepared. I am grateful we all got along. I am grateful it’s almost February and winters will be over in a few months. It’s half over and I am grateful!!!!

Jesh De Rox happens to be one of my favorite artist photographer creative types. He is a wonderful shooter, but his words hit me harder. I like his words a lot. He has an ability to articulate my understanding of my own process of creating an emotionally charged portrait.  He is a superstar in the American wedding photography industry right now and he is on the road promoting his new Beloved concept. 

How I create a photograph is by co creating and collaborating with my client. Working together with my client for an authentic emotionally charged portrait. I relate to Jesh when he talks about what is a good photograph. Like him, because I had no real formal classroom training, my definition of a strong photograph had to have elements of authentic emotionally honesty. I have no passion for the contrived or false. I can’t help it and when I am met with a dead energy I have no passion to pursue it. I have come to accept this as a truth for me.

I learned by doing. As a fashion model scout I can look at someone’s face, in person, which is in 3-D and know what it will look like in a one dimensional photo. Finding photogenic people is easy for me.  But I soon became surprised when a stunner of a girl would have no authentic connection to her own spirit.  It was blocked by ego. I found they were trying to be something they perceived I wanted rather than what they are.

My job today is very clear. Set them at ease in all ways. Convey to them I am trustworthy and a safe person to be allowed to view them in their authentic state of being. In order to do this I must convey the same thing to them. The fact that they allow me to look and photo captures them is a phenomenal honor. I am blown away by the sacredness.

When working with a new couple it is a must I shoot their engagement session. It is included in any package as well. But it is essential for the strongest of images come their wedding day.  I have to understand my subject, their feeling for each other and above all set them at ease so that when they see me again on their wedding they are genuinely happy. How they react to my presence, my camera is paramount. This is the reason I love photographing people so much. If they allow me to see them then I know I have really done my job. All the rest of the technical photograph stuff is easy, skill I can learn in bed reading. Being good with people only comes from interacting with them and if it goes wrong looking at my part.

I teach watercolor to 4^th grade and 6^th grade this year. I can practice my people skills with each human I encounter.  People are reactive by nature so what I give first 9 out of 10 times is what they are going to convey back.

Jesh says if you want your clients to drop all the walls, the pretense of ego and fear and to be raw, authentic, real, then I must show up channeling the same energy. Truth be told humans are such intuit creatures whether they are consciously aware of it or not that it is quite apparent when someone is covering something up, channeling  a false energy showing up with the fear of not being likeable. I must confess as well that I fear people won’t like me.  It is an inside job though that I have to willing to work on it continuously and consistently. The more comfortable I am with me, accept me, I find the more my clients are at ease with me as well. The more non judgmental I am of myself and them the more authentic they can be.

I am heading out to the Bay Area for a few model test shoots this week and a couple of paid bookings. I love shooting new things new people in new places. I am never sure what I will get so I look at it as a treasure hunt and I may come home empty handed. But, for sure, everytime I venture out I learn something new. Here is one of my most favorite fashion photography rep sites. http://www.jedroot.com/.  Look for updates in a week or so.

She left in her junior year to live in Switzerland, forgoing the normal school functions, prom, senior trips, dances, graduation. While she was there she finished high school. She’s in JC now and only 17. She played woman’s soccer while she was there, worked as an Au pair for my cousin and was able to travel to Germany and France. I don’t believe in 11th and 12th grade or 4 year colleges for 18 year old kids (unless it’s a full ride or their parents have that much money to throw down) or the SATs. It’s been my experience that 11^th and 12^th grades for 65% of the high school population is an education in partying and procreation. We don’t have Ivy League money and our local school isn’t producing many scholars for full ride academic scholarships, so our college path differs a bit. It’s a fast track through the 11th and 12th grade with our local charter school then straight to the local JC while living at home and then leave home at 19 with an AA and a plan for a BA through grants and scholarships. No loans, no credit cards, modern day slavery we think. I am not saying it’s the right way I am saying it’s our way and it makes the most sense for our finances and geographic.

Last night she went to a dance with a friend and I did her makeup and we decided to pull off her senior portrait pictures her way. She said it was way more fun than the dance. I love that! We still have great fun together and I love teaching her how to do make up although her career of choice is RN.

it reminds me of a 1982 Vogue Cover Shoot

with her girl

very late 70s

Her eyes

O la la la

The first time I met her, she held the door open for me, beaming. I saw her take a double take, most people do with me. When done up, I don’t usually look in my 40 with a boat load of kids that all emerged from my womb. I am sure she was checking to see if the story meets the cover. Her energy was like a spring morning, except the light came from her huge almond shaped eyes and that smile. I can’t say I have ever seen a friendlier and more welcoming face be as physically beautiful at the same time. I have discovered from years in the fashion industry that pretty people don’t have to work as hard. She wasn’t working hard; I knew in that moment, she is an anomaly.

That night we spent some time talking and exchanging a little of our lives and I decided I wanted to be friends with her. I choose a friend like I have chosen lovers usually an instant attraction and then a long courtship. I am a loyal long term friend. When I choose it is a big commitment for me and being a creative I like isolating. I am picky, I have to be.

What happened next was a plotting to keep her here. She had just started dating the man I started working for. She was up in our little slice of Alaska, very much like the Men in Trees series that ran on ABC awhile back. She is a working screenplay writer from LA and I knew that if she wasn’t head over heels for this guy and they weren’t headed on the path for the family way that it wasn’t the geography that was going to keep her here. This place is very lonely and secluded in the winters. In Lake Almanor people really have to want to be here. Living here is far from a relationship of convenience. It is hard and rich.

 As I spent time with them both I knew they were a family waiting to happen. Her beau, my boss, a good looking strong fierce caretaker of a man. He would make sure no one messed with his princess and she was free to be her creative wonderful self. Most men try to harness that energy. He was happy to be near it. I was certain this was a sacred match, so began my meddling and plotting of the hurry up to get them married and make a family already. We are burning day light here. Besides I don’t want to be stuck here without a creative companion. Yes I had selfish motives. I gave her my fertility goddess to hang in the house before they were even engaged. It was laughable, but I had 6 babies, so maybe it was the goddess I had in my house. I like to say I did it, but I can say between me and this baby’s Yaya that we both knew way before anyone else SHE (see cutest 2 month old baby below) was supposed to be here and they were the vehicle. They took their damn time, but she’s finally here and she’s even better than I predicted. I see an absolute equal slice of both of them and then her authentic sweet self.  Perfection. Every time I see her I get happy. Our whole family loves this baby and her parents aren’t so bad themselves….

HI

It began a few weeks ago with a dry horsey echoing from above our room. I knew it sounded bad the sound of lungs being ripped apart. I have known the sound of that pain, I have felt that pain. When Tristan woke up in the morning he said his lungs hurt. I believed him and so began a few weeks of what two doctors believe to be the H1n1  for  Olivia,  Jane and Tristan, although they were not tested it seems to be the only Flu curculating at this point. So began the 4 squares a day and dishes galore. The dish washer broke at the same time. I would make breakfast give them expectorant, Tamiflu, vitamins,  make tea,  go to the studio and edit for 2 hours, then back in the house to do it again and so on. This lasted for 9 days. It was a really long process and a storm moved in and the rains began on the parched meadow. It felt as if it were dark for a week. I began to feel tired and hungry and out of balance from a kidney infection myself. It had been days of BLAH. Today Jane woke up with a cough again. A secondary infection has moved in and I am back on intense watch. I am on the lookout for any slight alterations in behavior, fever, color of her skin. I know she has an infection our family Doc came over and listened to her lungs and no pneumonia is present at this point and we have antibiotics on hand waiting to see which corner she turns. Not fun and as a mom I worry.

I am also in between a big move. I am moving to MAC book pro and then this spring to a BIG MAC because I am way over sucky computers with sucky issues. I have 3 PCs that all suck on some level.  If want to play in the big leagues I have to have tools that support that. I have amazing cameras and now I need amazing work flow tools. I am not having much fun though.

To keep my spirits up I have been walking in the meadow and I have been painting again and it is what it is but I am very rusty and am doing many warm up exercises. I asked Liv what she thought about a couple of my pieces and she said “Well you used to be much better, but remember practice makes perfect Mommy, at least that’s what you have always told us”. I am going through the motions, but I really love the process. I have not painted a thing I feel excited about, but I feel excited I am painting. This is a change. I have neglected my need to nurture my artist with expectations that everything I create has to be sales worthy. Sometimes creating for me just needs to be a process of engaging with my creative side. This was a busy year for me and I let my self-care go and I let my work get way out of balance. So now I am trying to stay committed to keeping my brush wet even if it is crap I am painting.

Here are some of the images  I shot while the kids were sick. I  walked the dogs on the meadow a few times this week and they are always fun for me to shoot.  Life in the sick James house on the meadow in the Chester Lake Almanor basin is what I am calling this body of work.

cooking for sick kids, but they think its for them

This is what it looks like when I am cooking

Argus and dead yarrow

Kira shapera at sunset

So regal

Cows just off our fence at moonrise

waiting

she wants to be first

Golden light

The biggest maple tree I have ever seen

It has taken me 16 winters to understand the rhythm of where I live. I live on the South Eastern slope of the Lassen National Forest in a tiny town named Chester. I can see Lake Almanor from my kitchen , just beyond the meadow. It’s fall here. We are also surrounded by an aspen grove and massive cottonwood trees. It takes an hour and fifteen minutes to get to Chico by following a very curvy byway 32.  The colors are spectacular. Our friend Steve says it’s a Coors commercial. Here are some images from our treks down the last few weeks.

A Bamboo Forest in Chico

My muse My manThe biggest maple tree I have ever seen

The rest area at Deer Creek....on the Trek down the Hill

The Colors on the Creek

Indian Rubarb...Golden light

A piece I wrote almost 4 years ago. I have to 700 sq ft studio now still on the property, and not such a great view.

I have finally arrived home. I live on the edge of a great meadow. Beyond the meadow is a lake, which I have full view of, if it’s full enough and this year it is. The meadow and the lake border a national forest, one of the least frequented ones in the nation, also one of the most treacherous. It contains volcanoes. This is the first home of my own. My husband and I share it with our 5 children and 2 dogs now. The oldest Scout, who was with us for the last 13 years we put down last week. Argus is 3, he is our oldest now. He has cancer, hence the new pup Titus. I cannot be dog less. We have 3 goldfish in a tank in our living room, sometimes wildlife on the meadow choose to come over our white picket fence to forage for meadow mice that run to our home for sanctuary.

I have personally seen hawks, osprey, crows, sparrow hawks, igrids, snow geese, Canada geese, swans, sea gulls, Bald and golden eagles, blue birds, ducks (many types) pelicans, sand hill cranes, swallows, bob cats, the tracks of a cougar, many coyote dead and alive, raccoon, deer mice (the nasty ones that carry Hanta virus), a wood marmot (that was weird), beaver, and rat.

I love the meadow. I ski it every day in the winter, or did until the knee issue, out to the shores of the lake. I fancy myself CSI of the meadow to see the story the snow is trying to tell. Frantic tracks of rabbit running (deeper tracks) at first in straight line, then the dodge, this way and that, the tracks go, then blood, spatters of it, around the blood, an area where it seems as if someone has taken a feathered fan and tried to dust the snow with it, then nothing, gone. No more tracks the story is over. AHHHHHHHHHHHA. It must have been an Eagle, ll foot wing span, a big enough bird to lift that fat rabbit (deep tracks). There are many stories on the meadow. When the snow comes it’s easier to read. Coyotes eat their own dead, nothing is wasted. Even the blood is licked off the snow. I come upon many dens in the snow. Daytime travel on the meadow is safe. Except for the birds, most of the meadow life is nocturnal. Coyotes eat the meadow mice. It’s a rare occasion to see one doing so in daylight. They are efficient hunters. To read the hunt of a coyote after a mouse is about 20 ft of track in the snow. They sniff them out on top. Then dive like an osprey does for a fish.

The summer is tough, the grasses are high and the packs of coyote and raccoon remain hidden. The meadow is load at night. The animals are in full conversation or war. The coyotes will send one of their bitches in heat to lure and intact male (still has his testicles), from the neighborhood, out for breading rights and it doesn’t matter his size he becomes their dinner. Raccoons do the same. They are vicious killers. At night I watch my dogs when they go out to relieve themselves. Sometimes the killing can be heard and it is blood chilling. A pack of animals taking out its victim is not usually recorded in audio and the pitch of the yelps and screams turns my stomach. I can hear them all playing at first, they are load with their howls. Once the growling begins I know its dog prey has been surrounded. I want to save it, but I know the last cry as it smothers silent. Its neck has either been torn out or broken. I usually don’t sleep too well on those nights and I am left to ponder the natural world and who made it.

When I was little I dreamt of living on the edge of the wilderness. Now I do. My art studio /cottage /spare bedroom/ when I fight with my husband is 266 square feet of my heaven. It faces the meadow. Out the grid windows is my small kitchen garden, white picket fences and a dedicated area for ashes of our beloved dead. I have Scout buried on our back yard side. A tiny fertile garden with delphiniums asters, daisies, pink climbing roses, zinnias, hollyhocks, sunflowers, peonies, iris, lavender, rosemary, thyme, chives, sage line the fence. I have a small version of an old fashioned English garden with its bounty bursting through the fences, beyond is the wild, just as I dreamt of. I have a 1880s coal stove sitting in the south western corner, where I burn almond kindling in lu of smoking. I have to crack the window though or I’ll die of carbon monoxide poisoning. The fire is to help warm me, but mostly to soothe my spirit. Staring into the flames helps.

I finally have a room of my own and I come here whenever possible to connect with that divine power that created me. This place is my sanctuary and it has been a long journey here. I fear this is only a pit stop, a resting place. I hope to remain for a long delicious time. When we moved to the Inn’s Barn 12.5 years ago I recall looking over the fence and thinking of it (the fence) as the border to heaven, behind it a vast wilderness, a couple of houses and to the east a huge meadow. Boundless. I read CS Lewis’s book “The Great Divorce“. and I thought of the fence as the boundary to heaven. –”There are only two kinds of people in the end: those who say to God, ‘Thy will be done,’ and those to whom God says, in the end, ‘Thy will be done.’” However, the narrator’s descriptions of sin and temptation will hit quite close to home for many readers. Lewis has a genius for describing the intricacies of vanity and self-deception, and this book is tremendously persistent in forcing its reader to consider the ultimate consequences of everyday pettiness. –Michael Joseph Gross –

Now I’m on the other side of the fence, the Heaven side. I know I’m an eternal being over here, not without growing pains and afflictions, but with the knowledge, that no matter what happens to me, no matter what I choose, no matter how sick or well I am, I am an eternal being. I will eternally remain my creators. My one true vocation is to listen with all aspects of my receptors, all of my senses for the next indicated sign. I am to love forgive and serve. All things I knew would bring me misery. So, I avoided them at all costs, I now work vigorously to accept and understand and to obediently observe.

I have spent too many years on the other side being petty I suppose and sometimes still do. I am so glad to be on this side of the fence.