It's time to put all gardens to bed and prepare for the snow and get out the canvas and paints and see what inspiration may come! As fall leaves us the wood stove starts in our home and my studio. Autum arrives and so do the colors in the trees so it's the time to collect leaves for later inspiration. In the summer it is show time so the studio is a buzz of orders coming and going while finding time to pick delicious veggies from our garden is a morning ritual. You can hear the North River flow down stream to Shelburne Falls where I get to swim amongst glacial potholes.In the spring brings a plethera of avaian friends that nest around our gardens. My studio is on a quiet back road surrounded by perenial gardens with a trail that follows the Honeybun stream into protected Audubon woods. Nestled in the hills of the Western Massachsetts hilltown of Colrain. I will always be dedicated to keep these magnificent creatures wild and free for our future generations to see and cherish. I am happy my life is controlled by the spirit of wild horses and burros whose beauty is untouched, their manes never been brushed, and whose backs will know no saddle. Throughout my wild horse life there have been many tears and triumphs. More than 13 years later I still have the utmost passion and respect for our wild horses and burros. My mind,spirit and soul became quiet and I knew this was where I was supposed to be. It was this day that my eyes fell upon two beautiful wild horses dancing around each other in a tango as the dust filled the air. Many years later I was at a point in my life where I was feeling the exact same way I did when I fell from the horse. It was not his fault, just the wind.I decided there and then I was not supposed to control this or any horse. When I was a little girl taking riding lessons, I was thrown to the ground by a fiesty dark horse.I was left disheveled and disheartened. This will sometimes makes you wonder if you will ever find what they are looking for. Nothing compares to the pink ball of light as the sun rises over the shores of Assateague Island and your feet get wet in the surf as you follow the hoof prints of a seahorse far away along the beach.Īfter all, you may end up on a dead end road looking out into a painted canyon miles and miles from anything and anyone. Don't look away as the horse may retreat back into the cover of the forest in silence, never to be seen again. You may also discover that you are the one being watched, as your eyes focus on a pair of ears and big glassy eyes deep in the maritime forest. Not to worry, I take this as a “welcome to my land” introductory greeting, rendering you senseless and smitten at the same time.įrom the southwest to Cumberland Island, GA, finding yourself stumbling amongst the prickly palm meadows in search of wild horses is inevitable. When you do get a glimpse of the burro beauties, they love to give you a flat out stare down, which will possibly follow by a snort, and a ear- shattering burro bray. Throw your map away and follow a burro trail from the shores of Lake Alamo, up into the Rawhide Mountains, you may be lucky enough to see a whole crew. It is adorable none the less!īraying burros down in the dry river beds of the Mojave Desert you will find neat and concise pathways worn out by the perfect little hooves of wild burros. However, this incredible sight is not enough to inspire territorial prairie dogs to quit their incessant chirping. You may find yourself speechless, as they lift their heads and let the wind blow through their manes and the sun sparkle in their eyes. In the Badlands, the sheer wonderment of nature is on full display as you watch a tight knit family band stand in formation on top of a grassy hill. Sometimes inspiration and the enlightened spirit of mind can be found in a tiny corner of North Dakota where the high grass prairie meets the ashen formed badlands. Or you may find yourself lying in a high mountain meadow in the Pryor Mountains of MT, with a feeling of blissful euphoria as you watch while joyful horses dance amongst colorful wild flowers. Or venture the snowy dirt roads up and over the Cherry Creek Mountains and down into Butte Valley NV, where the silence of the land breaks only by a soft crunch, as a chestnut mare and her mate wind through the snow to take cover in a grove of juniper. The journey of their discovery can be found standing out on the windswept high mountain Red Desert of WY, where it can make you feel like you are in an ocean of sage with no land in sight until a band of mettlesome wild horses streak across the horizon like a thunder bolt, leaving you to wonder if your feet are still on the ground.
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