Show season is upon us.

We have our first official summer show this weekend.

I feel like I am living in an episode of "Groundhog Day".

Get up - go to the day job - come home - eat a little dinner - change into the paint clothes - paint until I can't concentrate anymore - walk the dog - go to bed - wake up - repeat.

Now I must add this disclaimer -

although this is a busy (and rather hard) schedule to keep up for any length of time,

I am NOT complaining.

On the contrary.

It is a joy and a blessing to be living out my passion on a daily basis.

In fact - even if I didn't have shows or orders, I would probably maintain the same schedule.

Many years ago, I changed my life and chose to stay home full time.

It was a great opportunity.

But it brought a long with a horrible depression.

One like I had never experienced before.

I wanted to be anywhere doing anything other than what I was doing.

I found no joy.

I didn't laugh.

I only felt overwhelmed.

Until I started creating art.

My art at first was pretty bad.

But it gave me a purpose.

I've told this story before - and I am not going to belabor it here and now -

but with the major life changes I am going through right,

it would be very easy to slip back into the place of depression.

Instead I find myself up to my elbows in color.

And thank goodness for the color. And the mess. And the busy-ness.

So for the next week or so -

I will keep living in my own "Groundhog Day" movie.

But come this weekend - I will feel some of the reward as I get to meet and talk to people at our art festivals.

And don't forget - if you are in the area -

stop by and say HI!

Nature's Art Work

God is such a great artist.

Look what has been created here -

there is depth, layers of color, contrast, movement, texture, dimension. . .

So inspiring.

Well done, God. Well done!

This last year, we started walking our dog on the weekends at a place called 1,000 Acres.
It's about 15-20 minutes from my home, nestled in the Columbia Gorge.

This wonderful place is acres and acres of wilderness area and walking trails.

What makes it even more special is this area is an off-leash, dog friendly park.

The entire place.

We love it.

Yesterday, I woke up and knew I needed to walk my dog, Redford.

Generally, I take him for a walk to the park in my neighborhood.

But I wanted more this time.

It was the weekend and I wanted a change of scenery.

This was the first time I had taken this walk by myself.
This first time I had considered going to this beautiful place since "the day" that my life changed.
I had a little internal battle with myself - was it worth driving for a morning walk?
Did I want to go there alone?
Was it going to conjure up memories and make my day difficult?

I make a concious decision that I would not sacrifice my happiness.
I loaded Redford up and we headed out to 1,000 Acres.

Anyone who says dogs don't remember has never been around a dog.
There is a bridge that we drive over that marks the transition between "city" and the Columbia Gorge.
Once we begin to cross the bridge,
Redford perks up, a smile comes across his face, the tail starts wagging and he paces back in forth in my van.
He knows where we are going and what is to come.
Pure JOY!

It had been raining most of the night so the parking lot was empty.

The sky was overcast, but the air was warm.

This was such a beautiful day and something my spirit needed.

As I walked, I realized I hadn't been there since all the vegetation had filled in.
The last time I was there, Spring was in the air -
but the branches on the trees were still bare; buds swelling but not yet opened.

It was if I was seeing this place for the first time. . .
shades of green had replaced the golds, tans and browns.

the pathways seemed to be leading me into a magical world;

 Daisies stood tall, while the leave and grasses were bathed in the morning dew and rain, the moisture making everything glisten;

 they seemed to be saying "good morning and welcome";

Thistles were standing guard at over 7 feet tall;

The meadow was spotted with bright yellow wildflowers;

And on a less poetic note . . .see the giant mud puddle in front of the wild flowers?

Redford became intimately acuainted with it. He splashed through it and every other one he could locate.

And came home a muddy mess!

And throughout my walk - I only encountered about 4 other people.

It was if I had the entire place to myself.

A perfect set up for mediation.

I felt the stress and busy-ness of the weak melt away and I entered into a timeless place.

I found myself smiling as I watched the joy of Redford run through the fields and the water.

I marveled at the artwork of Mother Nature.

I am so grateful to live in an area where I can escape into the wilderness in a matter of minutes.

I emerged from my walk not feeling sadness or depair at being there alone-

but instead, I felt joy, light, and happiness.

When I climbed back into my car - a smile was affixed to my face and I was ready to move into the next phase of my day . . .and my new week.

And on a business note . . .

this coming weekend is the Sandy Mountain Festival.

If you are in the area, come by and see me.

Look for the booth with lots of color!

An Artist's Hands

I paint.

I sand.

I glue.

I generally DO NOT have pretty nails.

I mean . . .really - why bother.

OK - truth be told -

I used to go and have my nails done every two weeks no matter what.

It was a vanity thing.

Don't judge me too harshly.

I have short stubby fingers and short stubby toes.

Seriously - I know this to be true.

Nothing you can say will change my mind.

A boyfriend in high school told me my toes reminded him of Fred Flinstone.

Cartoon toes.

For that reason - I used to spend money every two weeks to have acrylic nails on my hands.

I didn't wear them very long - I mean I needed to be practical.

But having a little length on my nails helped me feel like my hands weren't quite so stubby.

Then one day - I realized I was wasting my money.

I would get them all pretty and then go home and get them all covered in paint.

Not special.

So I stopped wearing them.

And I haven't had polish on them in a couple of years.

Until the other night.

My daughter is in cosmetology school.

She regularly needs models to perform her skills on.

She asked if I wanted to come in for a mani-pedi.

Yup!

You bet!

After all of the craziness going on - the idea of going downtown and being pampered for two hours was quite enticing.

I walked in with paint in my cuticles and under my nails and uneven, messy toes.

I was tortured for 2 hours with foot and hand massages, warm towels, relaxing aromatherapy oils, silky lotions and red polish.

Not just red - shiny, candied apple red.

I didn't get to choose the color - it was required for her "test".

Red is pretty unforgiving and the instructor can easily see the flaws.

And you know . . .

someone needed to be the model.

And after all - a mother makes these kinds of sacrifices for her daughter.

Poor me.

Matching toes and fingers.

And me - relaxed and pampered.

And this girl . . .

got 100% on her final grade.

And we got to talk and laugh and enjoy each other's company.

And she made this momma very proud.

And maybe I can keep them looking good for a few days.

But I'm not making any promises.