Creatively Thinking

  Featured image: Backyard Birds I am truly honored that my painting Backyard Birds received the Bronze Medal Award at the 3 2nd Annual Red River Watercolor Society National Juried Watermedia Exhibition. This national exhibition, juried by the talented Kim Johnson Nechtman and held at the Diederich Art Gallery at Minnesota State University Moorhead, celebrates the power and beauty of watermedia in all its forms. I’m deeply grateful for this recognition and for the chance to share my work alongside so many inspiring artists. Thank you to the Red River Watercolor Society, the juror, and to everyone who continues to support and celebrate the arts. Moments like this remind me of the joy of creating and the connections art makes possible.

  Featured image:  Valleys Kissed by the Sun Sunlight Seeing Sunlight makes the leaves transparent

  Featured image: I Come to the Garden Alone When I lived in England, my home was a row house in the middle of a bunch of other row houses, with the saddest little plot of grass—at most 10x10—in the front and a brick-paved space in the back, allowing for a tiny backyard or front yard to play in. But I was fortunate. There was a huge English garden right across the street from our house, so when I was home from an English girls' boarding school, I could wander the very cultivated paths. There were places to play cricket, tennis, soccer, or simply sit and read. My favorite spot was two sitting benches, and in between them stood a large stone monument with a poem written in 1913 by Dorothy Frances Gurney , called God's Garden. I have always loved this poem. I used to sit on those benches and find peace there. I even have a plaque with this poem written on it in my own garden. “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds for mirth, One is closer to God’s Heart in a...

Featured image: Sun, Tree, Water Even a day later, I can feel the rhythm of the water running through my body, making it one with the water, the earth, and the sky. Moving with all that is—this is the "isness" that I always talk about. A day later, reflecting on the wonderful experiences we had, I look at my hands and see, I still have the earth of the Northwest Territories under my nails. This earth, this tiny bit of earth and its totalness, represents the silence as the day ended far off on the horizon; the songs the wind and the trees sang; and the waves as they came crashing on the shore. The song of the line of forever, drawn between the water and the sky. The song of wholeness. The song of yes, yes, yes that I always talk about. The song of life, of connectedness, of naturalness, of possibilities—and the song of just being alive.

  I’ve just returned from an incredible trip to the Northwest Territories in Canada, and my heart is full. One of the highlights? Catching a massive 37-pound lake trout —all by myself! (Though in the photo it looks like Brad is helping me, I only asked him to hold it so we could safely release it. The lake is catch-and-release, and I didn’t want to risk harming such a beautiful fish.) It was a thrilling fight—the trout was deep, and it took a long time to bring it in on a jig. The moment I finally landed it, I was elated! Beyond that, we also caught grayling and pike, making it a full and unforgettable fishing adventure. Ten days of wild beauty, big fish, and endless wonder. Truly, my heart is filled.

  Featured image: What Lies Beneath Possibility is far more frightening, far more terrifying than any impossibility. Think about that one.

  Featured image: Flowing River Silver streaks   dancing    with the water, glorious—glorious—   movement.