This Makes Me Happy ~ To The Letter

This sight of gesso-drying boards

makes me so happy.

Because I am thinking about the ladies

I get to spend the afternoon with tomorrow.

Nothing can take the place

of sharing from the heart

to encourage women

to be who God made them to be

and even better,

the privilege of getting to use the vehicle of art

to share that message.

I just love it!!

This special aspect of this class

comes in embracing the my own uniqueness.

Below is a photo of my monogram piece.

It took me a LONG time to own

that I am

a

writer

artist

deep thinker

photographer.

Even if I never made a lucrative profession of these things,

I can still own them.

Are there things

that are difficult

to own about yourself?

I am talking about

the

dreams,

the hopes,

the deep passions and interests.

Are there things

that feel

so . . . 

protected,

so hidden . . .

so hoped

that if you owned

them

perhaps they might get squashed??

I have felt that way.

I still do.

I have ideas.

Ideas that are a bit scary.

Yet...

what if I never acted on them?

What then?

What if I never took a step toward living that idea?

Would it matter?

Would it make a difference?

What if I tried?

What if I tried and failed?

Would that idea still be worth trying?

What if I made the decision

to own

my hopes?

my ideas?

my interests?

Like being a bird watcher and a bookworm and an introvert?

What if I just embraced that part of me?

Every day that I choose to embrace things

that seem silly, yet vulnerable, I am finding

that I am

free

to

be

me.

We are creating a monogram tomorrow.

Either for yourself or for your family.

And considering questions about

identity.

uniqueness.

honor.

celebrating.

legacy.

life.

*

{Sign up for my newsletter at the top of this blog if you'd like to receive my next class schedule.

I will be working on setting dates for the rest of 2013 in the next 2 weeks.}

Beagle Walking

Our beagle is on a chain in the yard

because we have newly weaned calves.

Calves that are just weaned are very noisy,

but more importantly,

EXTREMELY paranoid, easily scared into a stampede,

by any unfamiliar sight or sound.

We live along a beautiful prairie creek.

HEAVEN for a beagle.

Beagles are hounds born and bred to track and hunt rabbits

with their nose.

If you are not familiar with hounds,

you must know that they make the most

high-pitched, writhing-in-pain, kind of sound

when they are on the trail of something.

This braying sound is why Toby, the beagle,

is chained up when we have weaned calves.

Normally, I walk with the beagle unleashed.

So he is quite untrained . . . a free-range beagle, we'll call him.

However, with the weaned calves I must keep him with me.

White Owl Creek is perhaps the most

explosive in fall color beauty

that I have ever seen.

Usually we have fall frosts and rains and winds that knock down the leaves.

But, despite the drought, 

there is gorgeous-ness.

So I adventure WITH the beagle into the creek.

With his oversensitive hound nose.

It is a miracle that I got ANY clear shots.

The creek is home to

deer,

skunk,

porcupine,

raccoon,

turkey,

and

RABBITS.

It was a battle of wills the entire way.

Me with my camera hunting for light and color and contrast

and

Toby with his nose hunting for all kind of vermin and varmint.

My kids had just gotten on the school bus

when Toby and I left.

And I noticed how one tree

that was vibrant orange

on Monday

was brown and almost bare.

I thought about how little time

I have to get photos of the trees

once the leaves start to turn yellow.

How I had to go with the beagle through the creek,

even though it would have been much

more peaceful to leave him at home,

or tempting to wait until he didn't have to be leashed.

But how I would have missed the moment.

Which turned my mind to my kids on the bus

and how we have moments

that are fleeting

like

fall

leaves.

The years of being home with me all day

are over,

so our evenings, mornings and weekends are

fleeting moments.

To savor and to really listen to them,

to hear what they have to say,

what they are excited about

what they are struggling with

what they are learning.

Every stage of life has its challenges

and every stage of life has its beauty and wonder and newness.

Beagle on a leash = challenge.

Fall leaves = beauty.

Kindergarten = wonder at learning to read.

Fifth grade = excitement about volleyball.

Seventh grade = newness . . . transition.

Challenges for each of my kids.

Challenges for me.

Challenges for my man on the ranch in a drought.

Living it all.  Doing these things together.

Is the beauty of it

all.

This Matters {Part 2}

This matters.

This day.

This moment.

Of pink boots on the wrong feet

with purple socks, capris,

and a sassy shirt.

This moment of blonde hair in her eyes.

And holding hands with chipped polish.

This matters.

Sunshine through fall leaves.

Climbing on cool rocks.

Sorting cottonwood, ash, elm and woodvine.

Scattering summer's flower seeds.

And smashing wood vine berries.

Just to see what it looks like inside.

This matters.

Right here.

Right now.

Fall leaves are here today and gone tomorrow . . .

just like this young robin

and a little sass-a-frass.

This moment matters.

This Matters {Part 1}

There is much on my mind

about to-do lists & day-to-day stuff . . .

as well as what to focus on next

for art & photography.

But this morning

Erin is 4 1/2.

And she asks me to come outside

"I need a little push here, Mom."

And I hear these words whisper in my mind:

This matters.

Don't miss {Part 2} here:  This Matters Part 2