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Once upon a time I was a simple Oregon farm girl. I spent my summer days riding ponies, playing with cows, dipping my feet in the cold pond water and watching Pollywogs. I was relatively shy and turned to books and drawing for companionship. While the other children played in groups, I observed them cautiously from beneath shady branches of mature pines, always clutching a novel in my hand. My grandfather gave me an old black and white Brownie camera and that too entertained me endlessly.
It was in high school that I found my first willing extroversion (meaning I did it without a fight and with great joy). Creative writing became my voice. Through that medium I was fearless because I could hide me behind the swirls of cursive that I penned. I then started working with troubled horses (which turned out to be horses that weren’t troubled in as much as being horses whose humans didn’t “get it”). Eventually I picked up a camera again, a little Kodak digital and I got hooked quickly. When I take pictures I am telling a story WITHOUT the words, but I’m still telling a story.
My best friends it seems, have always been animals, art and written words. I find solace in these things. They are my security and because of their dependability, it makes life simple. I enjoy simple.
I guess that means I am still a simple Oregon farm girl. |
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One of Central Oregon’s summer stormy skies. This may be why I am always tripping. I am always looking up. |
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Is there anything lovelier than simplicity? Tiny white flowers of Denmark |
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It is nearly impossible to lose your temper if you are whistling. Seriously, give it a try. |
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Sometimes I like to stand and look up at mountains and their beauty. I realize they were created by a traumatic and cataclysmic event in the past. It is not the event that defines their existence in as much as the beauty that sprang from it. |
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Pictures & Poetry Links |