Puppy Love

A soft, fluffy, furry, warm nosed puppy snuffling up to your neck is one of my ideas of heaven on earth. There’s just nothing like the sweet smell of puppy breath and little wet kisses to make you feel loved. I guess they don’t call it puppy love for nothing.

I’ve helped with my friends with several litters of puppies over the years, but this time, I just get to be a puppy love visitor. Whether I get to pat, cuddle or just admire their cute little faces, it’s warm and wonderful and refreshing, just to be around these cute bundles of romping energy.

These five adorable puppies are in the loving hands of two dedicated foster care volunteers for the Oregon Humane Society. The Mommy was taken from a farm near Burns, Oregon along with over 120 other dogs. When she came to their home, she was matted, underweight and pregnant. But her eyes were soft, sweet and hopeful.

Soon, she gave birth to five healthy puppies obviously from several different fathers. There are two black and white and a tan that look like mom, one lab-like black one and one black, white and tan pup that looks like Burmese mountain dog. Whatever their parentage, they are healthy bundles of energy.

Next week, they get spayed and neutered and then, they’ll be ready for adoption. At eight weeks, they’re the perfect age to add to your family. Take a look at these pictures and see if there’s a place in your heart and home for a little puppy love.

Mom will be looking for a new home, too. But she needs a little puppy recovery time, gaining some weight and getting spayed before she’s ready for a new home. I have to say, she’s come a long way from a shy, worried girl to warm, curious and sweet dog. I know she’ll be a wonderful friend and companion, too.

If you’re interested in one of these cute pups or lovely mama dog, you can check out the Oregon Humane Society website at http://www.oregonhumane.org/

Life & The Art of Collaboration.

If you’d asked me last week if I did much collaborating, I’d say no. As a studio artist, I work alone in my studio and I wouldn’t call the clay, metal or paint collaborators. As a writer, I write alone on my laptop and even though I do interviews and articles, I would say it was more like collecting information than collaborating. As a teacher, although I’m working with students, I wouldn’t have called it collaborating. But I’d be wrong.

This week, I went to the Oregon Arts Summit, a gathering of businesses, artists, educators and arts organizations. The theme of the meeting was, ‘The Art of Collaboration’.

After the summit, I realize I collaborate all the time. I just didn’t know it. I can see that I had a very narrow view of collaborating. In my view, collaborating would involve two or more people sitting down and working on a single project.

According to jazz saxophone player and speaker, Mike Phillips, “Collaboration begins with a relationship between you and your gift.”

Although my studio work looks like a solitary activity, I realize now, that isn’t true. When I sit outside, watch the birds fly, see faces in the leaves on the trees and use the spirit of nature in my copper repousse’, clay or metal mesh, I’ve collaborated from within myself and with my environment.

Of course, teaching a group of students is, indeed, an act of collaboration. I may come in with a basic idea for the class, but the way the class flows and grows is all about getting over fear, learning to trust and working toward an art piece together.


My writing is, also, a collaboration. In an interview situation, especially, the person and I have to trust each other enough to share information. I may be asking the questions, but the depth of the answers depend on the person’s willingness to open up about their life, work and process.

According to writer, Barry Lopez, “We gave up community in order to get the individual. We need to rediscover what it means to be community oriented.”

For many years, I longed to belong to a community of artists. Joining Portland Open Studios has given me that opportunity. But collaborating can be tricky. A few weeks ago, another artist asked me to collaborate with her and although I could see the benefit for both of us, I was concerned. I worried that she just wanted to find out my process, so she could use it to her advantage. So I tiptoed around it and she stopped asking. I can see, now, I was wrong.

Because life is all about collaborating, from the air we breathe, food we eat, work we do and, yes, the art we make. Of course, there’s fear. Especially right now, with the state of the economy but maybe that focus needs to change.

Lopez says, “It’s not about the money. It’s about love. It can be done and the money will turn up.”

If I can do it, so can you. Yes, it takes trust, patience and heart to live a good life in an artful collaboration. But isn’t that what it’s all about?

I think Barry Lopez said it best when he ended the day with this, “Let’s make something beautiful. Whatever you do, try to make it helpful. Show us what we fear and give us the reason to believe we do not need to be afraid.”

(Trimmed area) (Untrimmed area)

(Heron in Lake)





A Walk in the Park:
An occasional series.

After days and days of drenching rain, wind and hail, the sun came out. The park sparkles. Like a freshly polished jewel, the bright yellow green leaves shined in the sun, small white cherry blossoms sprinkled the ground and little ducklings floated behind their mom in the lake.

As Jilly, my yellow lab, and I walked around the lake, I spied a small blue heron fishing by the small island. We stopped and stared at this beautiful bird with its long, graceful neck, curvaceous body and stilt-like legs. Carefully, my husband made his way closer to take these pictures. Why were we being so careful? Because, we haven’t seen herons for awhile at the park. And that’s strange, because we’re used to seeing herons around our lake on a daily basis.

So why the change? Well, I’m not an expert, but I noticed that when the park workers began their forest trimming program to eradicate invasive plants, I stopped seeing the herons.

Take a look at the other pictures, here. Notice the beautiful naturally lush forest? That’s an area that hasn’t been trimmed, yet. Then, see the barren, flat area with the dead branches? That’s just one of the areas that have been cut down by large trimmers and mowers.

Now, they’ve started spraying. Yes. The other day, walking in the park, there was a small sign stating that herbicides were being sprayed on invasive plants, and a warning to stay from any foliage covered with blue dye.

The invasive plants they’re spraying are blackberries. Many a day, I’ve happily picked and enjoyed these plump, juicy berries while walking through the park. What’s nicer than a stroll through the woods, than one where you get free snacks, courtesy of Mother Nature? With nature now covered with herbicides, I won’t be snacking there anymore.

But what’s really bothering me is what they’re doing to the bird’s nesting places. First, trimming the bushes in the forest eliminates nesting for some small birds, snakes and rabbits. Now, they’re cutting down the bushes on the island where the geese and ducks nest. And right now, it’s the middle of nesting season.

Last week, I saw the first set of new goslings. Three sets of protective parents surrounded 12 little goslings as they foraged in the grass. I admire the goose community every year. They work as a tightly knit group parenting their goslings. Together, they protect, nest, birth, feed and teach their goslings. When goose flight school starts, it’s an amazing thing to watch how well organized they are at teaching their goslings to fly.

But how can these parents protect their goslings now? Where are they going to go when their nests are destroyed? How will they know to stay away from the blue-dyed plants covered with herbicides?

Next week, I’m calling the park department. I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. I want my park to be a safe place for everyone, moms and dads with kids, goslings, ducklings and herons, too.

Happy Beltane!

Happy May Day!


Gather ‘round the maypole and dance with me! Let’s celebrate the ancient festival of Beltane.

Beltane is one of four fire festivals in the ancient Celtic calendar. These fire festivals, Samhain, Brigantia, Lugnassadh and Beltane were three day religious festivals marking the changing of the seasons. The party started the day before the festival and lasted until the day after.

Then, Beltane celebrated the start of the ‘light’ half of the year, the blossoming of flowers and budding trees. And in ancient times, men and women coupled beneath the trees in the forest to celebrate the earth’s new flowering.

Here, it’s May Day. A day to dance around the maypole, crown a May Queen and collect flowers to give out to friends. As a child, the day was celebrated in the Catholic church with a special mass. At the end, the eldest girls, wearing fresh flower wreaths in their hair, led everyone outside to place bouquets of flowers beneath the statue of Mary.

I loved it. I was allowed to wear a colored dress instead of my dull navy and green uniform. There were flowers everywhere and, except for Christmas, the only time the church looked beautiful to me.

I still love it. My backyard is full of bright tulips and the heady, sweet fragrance of lilacs. Yesterday, I saw the first group of new little ducklings and goslings in the park. I gathered bouquets of lilacs and crabapple blossoms for the dining table, my bedroom and studio. Here are some blossoms to share with you, pictures from my yard and the park where I walk my dog, Jilly.

I hope you're enjoying spring wherever you are!

Two questions.
One Answer.

(Ball masque: Sun)

If you had all the money you needed and wanted and your health needs met, what would you do differently in your life?

This question came to me last week after a dream. Then later in the week, a colleague of my husband’s died. And the question took on new meaning, giving it even more perspective. Because, let’s face it, death is the end of this journey. With that in mind, I asked myself, the second question.

How do I want to live from now until then?

The answer to both questions is the same. I want to do what I love to do, be with who I love and enjoy it all much, much more.

I’d still want the same house that I have. But I’d appreciate it more. I’d plant more flowers and buy more flowers. I’d let myself sit out on the patio listening to the birds, sipping my coffee, reading and writing. I’d sculpt my clay, wire and copper. I’d paint and patina. I’d write blogs, articles and interviews. I’d want to publish and show my work to share it with others. I’d still want to teach in some form or other, again, to share the delight in being creative. I’d still want to make some money along the way, as a form of validation for work well done.

But I’d do it with ease, grace and flow. Gone would be the fear and guilt that has driven my life so far. If I wanted to buy something, I’d buy it. If I wanted to eat something, I’d eat it. If I wanted to go to a show, I’d go. If I wanted to go to Hawaii or Europe or New York, I’d go.

So with all that on my mind, here’s what I did today. I walked my dog to the park and around the lake with my best friend, and husband. I cleaned my house, with my husband, daughter and son, because I like living in a fresh, uncluttered place. While I dusted away, I thought about writing this piece, what I wanted to say. I had my lunch on the patio listening to birds sing, looking at purple tulips in bloom, tasting the salty ham sandwich and creamy potato salad. I worked on a few of my sculpture pieces, answered email from friends. Then I did some errands, picking up the makings for my favorite spritz and a dozen new flowering plants to fill my patio pots.

If this sounds boring to you, so be it. But to me, it’s been delicious to just live out a normal day with a new sense of ease, grace and enjoyment.

Ask yourself these two questions and see what answers come to you. Then let me know…what would you do or not do?

Now to have the courage to book that flight to Hawaii!

A Dream & A Message.

(Sculpture: Lion 2009)

I woke up from a scary dream last week and felt wonderful. I felt a kind of peace, mixed with a curiosity that I haven’t felt in a long time. And I also knew I was remembering the dream because it had an important message for me. I needed to figure it out.

Here’s the dream.

I was driving my car, making a left turn through an intersection when the gas pedal stuck. The car stalled. There I was in the middle of the intersection, the light about to change, cars about to start coming my way and the gas pedal was still stuck. No matter how hard I pushed or pumped, the gas pedal wouldn’t budge. The car was stopped. I was getting frantic when I realized that I had only one option. Take my foot off the gas. This seemed like an illogical move. How could I move forward if I took my foot off the gas? I pumped the gas pedal some more, the car didn’t move. So, I took my foot off the gas. Immediately, there was a popping sound and the gas pedal was no longer stuck. I knew I could go. Carefully, I lowered my foot, gently pushing down on the peddle and the car moved through the intersection. I made my left turn, continued on my way safe and sound.

Here’s the message.

The gas peddle – my energy – was stuck. I was afraid, but no matter how hard I pushed myself, I was not able to move through the intersection. I was literally at a crossroads – a decision had to be made. There was danger to myself if I didn’t take action and forces outside my control, illustrated by the oncoming cars. And it was clear that continuing to push on the gas was getting me nowhere. So I had to face my fear, and take my foot off the gas. When I did, I was able to drive my car through the intersection, making the left turn that I had wanted to make and continue on my way. Healthy and unharmed.

I’ve been working very hard in the last year. And although, I love working in metal, clay and paint as well as writing and teaching and showing, I’ve been driven by fear. This economic recession has hit home. My husband was laid off. My two ‘children’ are living at home. My art work has made money but it’s been small amounts that were ‘perks’ to our family budget, not necessities.

I didn’t want to give up my art work. It’s a career that I’ve been working on for over a decade now. So, I did the only thing I thought I could and that was make more work, show in more shows, and line up more classes. And I’ve done just that, in the last year, I’ve made over 30 new pieces, shown in over 14 shows, written on more blogs, tried new online networking/marketing sites and lined up over 20 new classes. And I’ve made a little more money. But I’ve had a lot of classes and shows that didn’t make anything. If all the classes had gotten sign ups, I’d be teaching in three different places, 3 to 4 times a week. There was a part of me that realized that this schedule was way too busy.

The dream had a message. Stop. Quit pushing yourself. That the only way to make it safely through the intersection of all these oncoming forces out of my control, was not to be more controlling. But to let go. Take my foot off the gas and allow the pedal to pop up on its own. Then I could move ahead in the direction I want to go.

Letting go. Letting the opportunities pop up, then gently, pushing down on the gas is the way to move ahead safely. Now that’s a wonderful feeling.

Doing what you love can save your life.
Book review: ‘Walking Nature Home’ by Susan Tweit

When many of us are wondering how to make a living during this fearful time, perhaps the answer is to change the question.

What if it isn’t your livelihood that was about to end but your life? If doctors told you had two to five years to live but that although, they didn’t know how to cure the illness, they did know that where patients made major life changes, their health improved dramatically. What would you do or not do? How do you deal with the fear, find your way to love, and a healthy life?

These are the questions that Susan Tweit faced in her early 20’s when she was diagnosed with an autoimmune disorder. As a trained scientist, she took on the research project of saving her own life and shares her journey with us in her new book, “Walking Nature Home.” Her warm and wise memoir has lessons for us all on how love, nature and finding your own creative voice are important for our very survival.

After reading and enjoying, “Walking Nature Home”, I wanted to ask Susan more about how she saved her own life by doing what she loves.


SusanGT: When the doctor told you that it's much more difficult to get well, if you're not happy, how did you find your health and happiness?

Susan Tweit: I had to learn to listen to my body and to my heart and spirit. You'd think we'd just know that--I'm sure we do as children--but as we grow up it seems like we are trained otherwise, or forget how to pay attention to those inner voices. I started by paying attention to what my body was telling me by taking notes on my symptoms: what they were, when they occurred, what I was doing or eating or feeling. It helped that I saw this as research. That somehow gave me permission to pay close attention. After a while, it just became habit. But I still didn't know what made me happy. When I'd ask myself, I was so out of practice at listening to myself that I just drew a blank. So I started paying attention to when I felt good, too, and what I was doing or eating or feeling then. Pretty soon I could actually hear that inner intuitive voice when it spoke to me. As I learned to listen to myself, I learned how to manage my health, and of course, surprise, surprise! I saw positive changes in my life too.

SusanGT: You say that you saw your illness as a teacher, a source of wisdom that you needed to hear, what lessons did you learn?

Susan Tweit: My illness forced me to find those "core values," the things that are most important to me in living a healthy, authentic life, to being myself in a positive way in the world: How to be attentive to myself. How to trust myself. How to articulate my needs in a way that was respectful to me and to others. The importance of living in an open-hearted, generous way, a way that honors all of the lives with whom we share this miraculous planet.

SusanGT: How did your illness help you find your true voice?

Susan Tweit: It gave me permission to listen to myself, to be attentive to what I heard, and to take myself and my needs seriously. It also gave me the impetus to learn who this entity I call "I" is, and what sustains my life--why living matters to me. Once I got in touch with that entity "I," I gradually found my writing voice, the genuine and unique things that the real me has to say, and how to say them in a lyrical and compelling way.

SusanGT: In your book, you talk about how love healed you and how love has been proven to heal others, would you share that story here?

Susan Tweit: I came across one of the most fascinating pieces of research about the healing power of love in Women's Bodies, Women's Wisdom by Christianne Northrup, MD. She tells a story there that I retell in Walking Nature Home: Scientists studying heart and blood vessel disease at Ohio State University bred a group of rabbits to develop both hardening of the arteries and coronary artery disease. The bunnies were then fed a killer high-fat diet, but when they were dissected at the end of the study, researchers were puzzled to discover that a significant group of them showed no trace of coronary artery disease. Finally, the grad student who fed the lab rabbits confessed that at mealtimes, she took these rabbits out of their cages to pet and play with them. Subsequent studies replicated this result: the animals that received loving attention came out clean.

What that says to me (and to others as well) is that love can heal. Being loved, being tended to in a loving way, causes chemical changes in our brains and immune systems that can actually heal our bodies. Studies of the chemicals that transport our emotions from cell to cell explain the mechanisms for that kind of healing, and studies of various sorts on touch in healing, emotions and healing, bear out those conclusions. What it comes down to is that love--not sex, not passion, but steady affection, respect, caring, and support of those who feel warmly toward us, really can help us heal.

That does not say that love will banish every health condition. It didn't make me well. But the love I live with has helped me adapt to my physical challenges, and live a good life with them.

SusanGT: So, if love heals, did you find doing what you love also created healing and health? And what are those 'things'?

Susan Tweit: What I love is writing, speaking, and restoring nature and its community at home in the places where we live. I believe in the power of love--love for my husband and family, love for nature and the community of lives whose interrelationships make this Earth a habitable and inspiring place, and love for life itself. Living in an open-hearted and generous way that respects the lives around me--human and all the others--has restored my life to a rich and rewarding path. I believe that our species has one important talent to contribute to this life and this planet: love. It is our capacity to be compassionate and generous and loving that makes us special, and could well save us. It certainly has given me back my life.

Thank you, Susan, for sharing your story with all of us. The lessons you learned about love could be life-saving lessons for us all.

You can learn more about Susan Tweit and her book, “Walking Nature Home,” by visiting her website at http://susanjtweit.com/ or her blog at http://susanjtweit.typepad.com/walkingnaturehome

And you can participate in a teleseminar with Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnet, phone 1-712-432-0600, access code #998458, at 5pm Pacific time/8pm East Coast. Here’s the link for you http://womensmemoirs.com/2009/04/author-susan-tweit-provides-insights-and-writing-prompt/#comments

A Walk In The Park:
An occasional series.


To quote poet, ee cummings, “in Just spring when the world is mud-lucious..”

Here, in the Pacific Northwest it couldn’t be more true. Spring arrives here in waves of rain and wind. Some call it liquid sunshine. I call it wet, windy and cold, but it does make everything bright green and mud-luscious with occasional sprinkles of pink snow from blossoming plum trees.

As I walk my dog, Jilly, around the lake, the geese squawk loudly alerting their community to our presence and warning us to keep our distance from their nesting areas. I respect their homes and their beaks. You don’t want to mess with a protective goose, it’s dangerous. One thing that never fails to amaze me is their unity as a goose community. They all watch out for each other while at the same time protecting their own nests. They group together for nightly swims, and once the goslings are hatched, they all take part in protecting, feeding and teaching them. The goose unity always amazes and inspires me to search for such group unity in my own life.

As we head out of the park and through the suburban neighborhood, I notice some daffodils that have popped up one by one through the grass in someone’s front lawn. It’s obvious they weren’t planted there. They just came up from somewhere beneath the sod on their own. The bright yellow trumpets are even more spectacular against the green grass. And the fact that they ‘stand alone’ independent of a flower bed or planter, seems amazing.

It makes me wonder. It fills me with awe. It shows me that life will spring forth out of the unknown to bloom in the most unexpected places.

In these difficult times, when I’m fearful of all the unknowns in life, these little daffodils make a powerful point; that life grows up from the dark soil, through the tough grass and blooms brightly.

That gives me hope to believe that while I might be in the dark about the future, that doesn’t mean growth isn’t happening. As I walk along my path, there’s new life springing forth and blooming. Perhaps, all I have to do is remember to lift up my eyes and see it.

Speaking of learning life lessons from nature, be sure to come back next week and when I visit with author, Susan Tweit, about her wonderful book, "Walking Nature Home."

Art opening in the suburbs:

(Left:Shapeshifter-Polar Bear ribbon, Right: Black Sheep, Shapeshifters- Polar Bear, Wolf, Owl, Lion & Sheep.)

subject object show at The Kingstad Gallery.

There’s a prejudice out there about the suburbs. People who live in city say the suburbs are a bland, boring, homogenized, cultural wasteland. I’ve lived in the suburbs for many decades now, and I’m here to tell you it’s not true.

Take a walk in the park, 5 minutes from my house on a Saturday and listen to all the languages spoken. According to a recent survey, there are over 90 languages spoken in Beaverton alone. The resources include large public libraries, parks, lakes, bike paths, recreation centers, dog parks, farmers markets, and, yes, art galleries.

On third Thursdays every month, at The Kingstad Gallery in Beaverton, you can view a wide range of art, savor and sip delicious food and wine, and mingle with artists, musicians and performers who might also be your friends and neighbors.

The new show, ‘subject object: exploring the human impulse to hunt, gather & tell tales’, features paintings, sculptures, watercolors, photography, mixed media collage, assemblages and mosaic work from over 20 national, regional and local artists.

On opening night, I took in the wonderful array of work by local artists. I saw Becca Bernstein’s elder portrait series, Buck Braden’s ‘Street Car of Desire’ series, Allen Schmertzler’s powerful political paintings, Kurumi Ishikawa Conley’s gorgeous, fused glass pieces, Mark Randall’s ‘Life in the Circus’ series, Celeste Bergin’s wonderful paint boxes, and Uta Felhaber-Smith’s found object collages, just to name a few. And I’m honored that my Shapeshifter series and two of my Myth series pieces were also on exhibit.

This relatively new gallery in Beaverton shatters the assumptions of the suburbs in many ways. The art is professional, the crowds diverse, and music eclectic. The building also houses a comedy club and theater group as well as hosting many local meetings and luncheons all year long, giving the art and artists a wide viewing audience.

I think once you see the exhibit at The Kingstad Gallery in Beaverton, you’ll realize that powerful art and talented artists live and flourish in the suburbs, too.

For more information about The Kingstad Gallery, drop by at 15450 S.W. Millikan Way in Beaverton, Oregon or visit their website at http://www.blogger.com/www.kingstad.com/gallery/gallery_home.html

Meeting and Greeting.
Learning and Teaching.
Doing a demo at the Museum of Contemporary Craft.

This month, one of my Season’s series sculptures, ‘Spring’, is part of the March community showcase at the Museum of Contemporary Craft. As part of Portland Open Studios Tour showcase, I was asked to do a demonstration of my sculpture process for visitors to the Museum.

So Saturday, I packed up some small pieces of aluminum mesh and some examples of the finished process and headed over to the Museum. I was looking forward to it for many reasons. One, I really like doing the demo. It’s fun.

And this time, it was even more fun, because I was there with three other artists from the Portland Open Studios Tour; Bonnie Meltzer, Wendy Dunder and Careen Stoll. We all do very different work. Bonnie crochets copper wire. Wendy makes lamps with tissue paper and paint. Careen throws pots but on this day, she was making a pinch pot. And although, I’ve used wire, tissue, matte medium and clay, I’ve never used like they do. So for me, it was an opportunity to learn from watching their demos just like the other visitors. And I got a chance to talk shop with co-workers in the same line of work.

It was also a chance to meet and greet people from all over the city and country who love art. They wandered through the museum, took in our art showcase and came up to our demo tables. They asked questions about what we do and how we do it. We told them about our art, each other and the Studio Tour that brought us all together.

Portland Open Studios Tour has been a wonderful experience for me. It all started last year, when I timidly filled out the application and sent in my fee. I didn’t know whether I’d be accepted or not. I tried not to think about it. But when I found out I’d been accepted, I was elated and scared.

Because, now, I’d be opening up my home for two days, two weekends in a row, to people from around the city and country to watch me in my studio do my art work. As a solo studio artist, this seemed overwhelming and terrifying.

I did it anyway. And I’m so glad I did. I met six other artists who lived in my own neighborhood as well as many other artists in the Portland area who participated in the tour. As part of the tour volunteer requirements, I got the chance to interview and write about other tour artists. It was a wonderful, eye-opening experience to peer over the shoulders of other artists as they work and ask questions about their process. I learned about stone carving, printmaking, weaving, bead sculpture, pastels and European egg painting. It was so much fun. And that was all before the tour even started.

The tour came and went with surprising ease. I had so many wonderful, interesting people visit me. I learned more about myself and my art through the process of sharing it with others. One couple donated their kiln to me. Sure, I sold art work. But the biggest benefit for me was doing the demonstrations for the visitors, explaining what I do, how I do it, answering their questions and listening to their stories about their own art experiences.

Before this wonderful experience, I never would’ve pictured myself doing art demos for people at a museum or in my own studio. But that’s what’s great about trying something new, isn’t it? I may have taught others about my work, but I learned so many new things about myself, about other artists and about my community.

King Arthur: Real or Imagined.
It makes a great story either way.

Book review: The Kingmaking

by Helen Hollick

Just like everyone else, I’m familiar with the stories about King Arthur, Guinevere and the knights of the round table. Are they true? Did all this really happen? Did Arthur and Guinevere really exist? The fact is, nobody really knows. The real question is, does it matter? No.

And author, Helen Hollick would agree.

I’ve seen the movies and read other books about Arthur, so when I was received Helen Hollick's ‘The Kingmaking’, a 500 plus page paperback from Sourcebooks, I wondered if this would be another journey into myth and fantasy or an attempt at history. It’s a little of both.

A good book lets me explore new lands, experience life in the past, present or future, and get to know the hearts and minds of the characters. It’s an enriching experience that comforts and inspires me. I treasure my nightly reading time so, if I don’t like one book, I go onto the next. I have to say that I looked forward to picking up 'The Kingmaking' every night. I savored every page.

Author, Helen Hollick created a more ‘real’ Arthur and Gwenhwyfar than I’ve ever encountered before. She creates a world that is believable and realistically detailed. I could tell that she’d actually seen some of the locations she describes. I liked the depiction of the characters daily lives in a down to earth way, the familiar family dramas such as sibling rivalry and the conflicts between paganism, Christianity and the monarchy. Even though it’s not historically accurate, it feels real.

Hollick says, “I am not expressing fact, merely what might have been. The dates are my own interpretation, gleaned from a hotch-potch of muddled theories and chronologies. They may not ally with those proposed by the professional historian, but as virtually no date of this period can be established as absolute fact, I feel I can justify my theories.”

With this in mind, Hollick sets out to tell her story of the Dark Ages of Britain around 450 AD. The Roman Empire is crumbling leaving tyrant, Vortigern, to rule the British until Arthur, the son of Uthr, can grow up and fight for his right to the throne.

There are battles and lovemaking, political marriages and mistresses, deaths and births, and squabbling heirs to the throne. The usual Arthur, Merlin and sword in the stone myths are missing here.

Hollick explains, “As for Arthur, no one knows if he was real. A few scattered poems and early Welsh bardic tales were adopted by the twelfth century Normans who were responsible for the stories we know so well today. The knights, chivalrous deeds and Round Table belong to this later period, as did the fictitious invention of Lancelot, his adultery with Gwenhwyfar, and Merlin the wizard. You will not find them in my tale.”

Although, I didn’t miss the myths because Hollick’s depiction of a more ‘real’ Arthur was much richer even if it’s not an accurate history, it’s still a great story.

If you ‘d like to learn more about Helen Hollick, her website is http://www.helenhollick.net/ ‘The Kingmaking’ is book one in the Pendragon’s Banner Trilogy www.myspace.com/pendragonsbanner

Creating a life of integrity and meaning without gods.

Or how to be a meaning maker instead of a meaning seeker.

Book review:
The Atheist’s Way by Eric Maisel

I’ve read many books by author, Eric Maisel. I’ve found his thoughts on creativity and mindfulness in “Fearless Creating” and “Ten Zen Seconds” to be helpful and practical. As an artist, working in the solitude of my studio, his wise words served to anchor me during the art-making process. So when he asked me to review his new book about Atheism, I said, yes. Now, I’m not so sure.

I grew up with a god in my life. But pretty soon, I began to wonder, ask questions and get into trouble for being a little too curious. I was supposed to just ‘believe’. I wanted to be a good little girl and keep the nuns from smacking me, so I acted like a believer. But that’s all it was, acting. I saw through it all. Later, I got angry about all the ‘stuff’ and just quit going to church. Whew. What a relief that was, but I didn’t stop seeking. I studied other religions and philosophies finally thinking I was settling closer to eastern ideas, which Maisel calls ‘river religions’. The more I looked at it, I saw it still had many of the dogmas that western religions and gods do, just different names. Even though Tarot, I Ching and other supernatural beliefs attracted me next, I saw that again, there was the same problem here just a different name. After reading this book, I see that Eric Maisel agrees with me.

He says, “The god religions, the river religions, and the world of the supernatural enthusiasms do not serve you. They force you to rein in your intelligence, make claims that you do not honestly believe, and hurt your chances of taking a fearless inventory of your beliefs and charting a course that will make you proud.”

My question then, is, where do I go from here? Eric Maisel would suggest atheism. I’m not sure I want any ‘ism’, if you don’t mind. But one idea in his book that I do embrace is meaning. Specifically, meaning making.

He describes it this way, “You let go of wondering what the universe wants of you, you let go of the fear that nothing matters, and you announce that you will make life mean exactly what you intend it to mean.”

Sounds easy, but exactly how do I go about doing that? Eric explains, “We look forthrightly at the next hour, week, month, year and decade and we try to make conscious decisions about what actions are congruent with our heroic effort to live passionately and well.”

What does that mean on a day to day basis? That depends on our needs on each and every day. According to Maisel, when we need to act, we act. When we need to change our attitude, we can change it. We don’t give in or give up.

In other words, I do what I can do. If I’m not pleased with where I am or what I’m doing, I can change it. Making meaning does literally mean that I make it, every day. And since every day is different, mean making one day might be different that another day. At first I thought that sounded a bit like a license to be flaky, but that’s not the idea. The idea is to be grounded in the real world and respond to it in real time with what’s really meaningful. And being willing to respond to change by changing what needs to changed and doing what needs to be done.

I like that idea with or without the ‘ism’ attached.

For more reviews and information about Eric Maisel’s book, The Atheist’s Way, http://www.theatheistsway.com/
http://theatheistsway.blogspot.com/
Or his website at http://www.ericmaisel.com/

An old kiln with a new life:
A gift from one artist to another passing the creative flame.

When I had my open studio in October 2008, I had many wonderful visitors. One special visit came on a Sunday morning, from Ed and Dorothy Wilbur, a lovely couple who not only admire, respect and collect art from artists but over the years have created many of their own masterpieces.

Their home is filled with art inside and out, included in this amazing space are many pieces they created as well. There are masks, paintings, sculptures, garden art, artfully painted walls, stencils, a miniature house with art, quilts, and much, much more. Including several workshops where they’ve created their artwork over the decades.

The day Ed and Dorothy came to my open studio, they noticed my clay sculptures around my home. And they wondered why they’d never seen them in the gallery. I explained that I’ve never shown these sculptures, because I never had enough of them to make a ‘body’ of work. Why? Because I never had consistent kiln access that would allow me to build a body of work. Ed offered me his kiln and I accepted.

A truck had to be rented. The kiln was moved. An electrician had to be found and scheduled to come out and put in a 220 Volt line in the garage. This took months. Then, a kiln expert was called to come out, inspect, repair and set the kiln up for firing.

Now, at last, the kiln is ready to fire my clay sculptures. During this time, I’ve been working on new clay pieces and five are in process. I bought a kiln manual, so I’ll have some idea how to fire up my kiln without blowing up my pieces. Soon, I’ll be loading my own kiln, with my own pieces and bisque firing them. I’ll let you know how it goes, until then, here are some pictures of my new/old kiln and new sculptures in process.

Coming full circle:
From rejection to acceptance into the local visual arts showcase.

Showcase Sculpture: "Winter/Imbolc"

When my son started pre-school, I started painting again. I hadn’t painted since a horrible humiliating experience in a college watercolor class. Don’t misunderstand me, the prof was right. I had a lot to learn and I knew it. I didn’t let his intimidation force me out of the class of art majors. I stuck it out to the end. I could tell he respected me for it. But the experience took its toll on my soul and after the class, I quit painting.

After my daughter was born, I vowed to teach myself to draw, something I knew I needed to learn. So when my little baby went to sleep, I took out my pencils and drawing pad. I made a little progress, I think. But as a full-time mom of a daughter and then a son, I didn’t have a lot of energy left over for my own creativity.

When my son entered pre-school, I had two hours, two days a week to do art. I set up a studio in the corner of my bedroom. My studio was a drafting table, stool, watercolors, my old brushes and a few sheets of good paper. Out of the reach of little hands, I was able to enjoy the pleasure of alizarin crimson washed skies and Payne’s grey mountains. In a few months, I had a piece that I thought came out well. I had gone to the local art show, so when I saw the call for art, I hung my watercolor on my dining room wall, took pictures and submitted it.

It was rejected. I felt embarrassed and disappointed and humbled like I was by that long ago college professor. But this time, I didn’t stop making art. Instead, I started taking classes. First, it was beading classes where I created mini-landscapes couching tiny seed beads into mountains. I took pieced imagery creating a two-sided quilt with an abstract painting on one side and a machine embroidered portrait of Katherine Hepburn on the other. Drawing and painting classes came next leading to a love of pastels and the beginning of a fascination with faces. My first sculpture class required me to make a clay bust. It was not love at first sight.

At home, I was still painting with pastels and paint on my small drafting table in the corner of the den. But I was trying to get my fabric painting to have more of a sculptural form. I tried different glues, fiber and battings when that didn’t work, I bought some screening at the local hardware store. When I couldn’t get the fabric to stick, I gave up on the fabric and started painting the screen.

Ah…aha! It worked. It did exactly what I wanted it to do. But, it was a little weird, I mean how many people do you know who make art out of window screening. But it let me do all the things I liked, fiber, paint, faces and sculpting.

I didn’t know it then, but I do now. I’m a sculptor. Once I started sculpting screening, clay and metal, my paintings improved. My drawings became more skilled. After all those years of feeling like a failure in art class, I found out I was able to draw and paint. I just needed to do it in 3 dimensions instead of 2.

This year, butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I filled out the entry for the same local art competition I had entered my watercolor in almost 17 years ago. Only this time, I entered my Season’s sculptures. A few days before Christmas, I got a present from the past, my Season’s sculpture entitled, “Winter/Imbolc” was accepted into the 27th Annual Visual Arts Showcase.

On Saturday, I went to the opening. It was packed with people. Artists, art lovers young and old wound around an amazing array of photography, watercolors, oil paintings, fiber art, and sculpture. Coming around to the end of the room on a white pedestal, was my sculpture “Winter/Imbolc”.

Sometimes it is worth the wait. It felt like I’d come full circle and it felt good.

(Ball masque-Sun)

Don’t worry.
Be happy.
Right. How come it’s so hard to do?

Today is a busy day and that’s a good thing. I’m a little nervous, excited as well as happy. Yes. I said it, happy. Why is it so hard for me to say that I’m happy? I want to be happy- doesn’t everyone? Ok, maybe there are some people out there who don’t, but I do. I really do. So what’s the problem?

Fear. Oh, that old feeling back – again. It sounds ridiculous but it’s the truth. I’m afraid of being happy. Why?

Here’s what came up. What if it gets taken away? What if it’s a mirage that looks good from a distance but never materializes. What if it’s just a pretty frosting that covers up a bad situation. What if something goes wrong? What if I’m not worthy. Why should I be happy when others are not?

I wonder why I distrust happiness? Because in the past, it wasn’t what it seemed? It was a mask worn by someone who really felt differently? It was a rug that was pulled out from under me? Could be. We’ve all had good situations that turned bad. Or days that started out good and ended differently. But I know, I’ve also had the opposite happen, so have you, I’m sure. Bad situations, people, days that turn out to be good in the end.

So, what’s the problem?

When I look back at my life, I see times when I was truly happy. Enjoying a romantic picnic by the river with my husband. Holding my newborn daughter and son for the first time. Strolling the beach at sunset. Nothing bad happened.

Writing this now, I’m feeling less nervous and more relaxed. I’m looking forward to today. I have a sculpture piece to deliver to an art show. I have a mask making class to teach to fun-loving children at a local elementary school. I’ve got a party to go to at a jazz club.

I can be happy. I can enjoy my artistic accomplishments. I can have fun teaching the art of mask making. I can enjoy the party. There that wasn’t so hard, after all.

In the spirit of happiness, here’s my contribution to the happiness meme that’s going around the blog world right now. With all that’s going on in the real world right now, I know I need all the happy thoughts I can find. I hope it helps you find some of yours, too.

The meme is simple: You list six things that make you happy, not necessarily in any order, just the first six that come to mind. Ok, maybe that might be hard but try not to worry about it. (I’m smiling at you, see?) Then you "tag" another blogger or two with the meme, to pass it on.

1. The sun shining down on me as I walk my dog around the lake. I feel the luscious warmth on my back while my nose feels the frosty, winter air. I see the heron feeding, hear the redwing blackbird singing and lean against the powerful cedar trees and sigh.
2. Going over and kissing my husband and asking him if he’s happy and he says, “Yes.” I ask, “Why?” And he says, because right now, everything’s good…home, him, me, the kids, his work, my work. I kiss him again for reminding me once again, that life is good.
3. Playing with clay, pushing on smooth copper, painting with a rainbow of paints and writing the stories that the pictures want to tell me.
4. The first sniff and sip of fresh morning coffee.
5. The sound of my daughter singing. The sight of my son digging into a home cooked meal with gusto.
6. The support of friends and family. I don’t take that for granted…thank you all!

Ok, so now it’s time to tag someone else…Brenda Boylan, a pastel artist, http://brendaboylan.blogspot.com/ and Patrick Gracewood, sculptor, http://shadowsonstone.blogspot.com/

Have fun with your happy thoughts!

A WALK IN THE PARK:
An occasional series.

Today, it snowed. My dog, Jilly and I take a walk to the park every morning and today, there were snowflakes coming down all around us. Softly. Quietly. What is it that makes snow covered anything more magical?

The streets are still streets. The trees are still trees. The rocks are still rock solid. Yet, covered with a dusting of snow, they change into something even more beautiful. There seems to be more mystery here.

Is it the soft, fluffiness covering the world’s rough edges? Is it the glitter, glistening of the light bouncing off the white snow? Or is it what you don’t see, that creates the magic and mystery. The mystery of the partially snow covered branches, rocks and leaves, or the contrast of the uncovered dark edges up against the soft, white mounded snow.

There is a contrast to everything that gives a new dimension to life. But there is the part of the world that is now covered by snow. It’s not visible to us in all its color, shape and detail. It’s hidden. That’s the mystery.

Oh, we can all fill in the blanks of what’s really there. But what if we let our imagination create something new there, just for today. We can imagine that underneath the snow, there’s something new. Maybe there’s a flower, a treasure, or a hidden world.

I do know that it changes my walk. My feet sqwoosh on the snow. The snow falls so quietly. Everything seems hushed, even the ducks quack and the birds twitter softer. I see the seagulls standing on the ice in the middle of the lake. I smell the clean, cold brightness and taste the flakes as they fall on my lips.
The world just feels softer, prettier, and calmer. So do I. Why? That’s the mystery. Maybe, that’s the magic, too.

(My dog, Jilly and I take a walk in the park every morning. It’s exercise for my body, but it’s also an exercise for my creativity. Leaves, trees, rocks, water, birds become more than passing objects, they become food for my imagination and a source of on-going inspiration. I’ll be sharing my morning experiences occasionally here on my blog. Let me know what you think.)

(Moon-Susan Gallacher-Turner)


Sculpting a Life:
Studio secret revealed.

I used to have a secret about something I did in the studio everyday that nobody knew about. I did it everyday, the same way. I felt a little guilty about it because it felt so good to do it. So I kept it to myself, my little studio secret. What I didn’t know then was this; this secret was important to my success as an artist, my health, sanity, relationships as well as my productivity.

What is it? It’s hard to put a label on it. So I’ll just go ahead and describe it step by step.

First, I’d make coffee. While that was brewing, I’d light a candle or two and put on a CD, usually instrumental. When the coffee was ready, I’d pour myself a nice, big, mug full and head to my studio. I’d sit down in the wicker chair with my dog at my feet and begin. I closed my eyes, sniffed and sipped my coffee and concentrated on nothing. I did nothing but sit, sip, listen and breathe. Thoughts would rush through my head. Feelings would bubble up from within, sometimes I’d sigh, sometimes I’d cry. But through it all, I’d keep sitting.

I treasured that time and called it my Creative Meditation. I got brave after awhile and put it on my schedule as C.M. I was able to do it after everyone else had left for school or work and I was alone. It felt so luxurious to have that time, alone, all for me – everyday.

Where did it go? Life changed. It’s hard to find the space and time to do it. My kids are college-age, live at home and are here most mornings, so I’m no longer alone. My beloved dog, Heather died and, although, a wonderful new lab has come into my life, she doesn’t always sleep at my feet. I’m also feeling the economic pinch, the need to push myself harder, to make more money, to be more productive. That means more to do and less time to be.

I remember when I started on my road as an artist and I began my creative meditation, I was afraid if I stopped and sat down, I might never get anything done. Of course, that didn’t happen. I’ve gotten a lot done over the years and have the portfolio to prove it.

There’s a lot to do. Right now in the studio, there’s a copper leaf piece on the table, three clay busts on the rolling stand, and a screening sculpture on the easel waiting for another layer of paint. There are new classes to plan and organize. Writing projects for blogs, freelance, interviews, book reviews that all need to be finished. Then there’s the work that goes with living; dishes, laundry floors, cat boxes, garbage, cooking, walking the dog. It seems an endless list that once done needs to be redone. Everyday.

I love what I do. And whether I’m sculpting, teaching, writing or connecting with new people I’m focused right there. So why can’t I focus on taking this space each day? Why is it so easy to-do and so hard to-be?

Fear. Now I’m afraid that if I stop doing, I’ll be swallowed up by fear. My fear of the unknown and my feelings of powerlessness will bring me to a grinding halt.

But running away from my fears doesn’t make me less afraid, all it does is keep me away from me. And after all, in this world of unknowns if you don’t know yourself, what do you know? I think that one way to get through the unknowns is to get back to what I do know. Me. Everyday.

Today, my to-do is to-be. For 1 cup of coffee, I resolve to let myself have a space everyday to be, to sit, to breathe in and out, to listen whatever pops into my head or heart.

ART IN PROCESS:

THE LION DEMO IS ALMOST DONE!

I started the lion sculpture in October as one of my demonstrations for those who came to my studio during the Portland Open Studios Tour. Since then, I finished the sculpting and went onto painting stage. I put up a few pictures in a blog on November 20, 2008 showing the the painting stage in process.

I did take some time off during the holidays to enjoy the homey 'arts' of baking, decorating, wrapping and celebrating with family and friends. But I've been back in the studio the last two weeks working in clay, copper and screening.

I wanted to share this new photo of the lion's progress. I'm happy with how the painting process turned out. What do you think?

Out with the old
And into a new year, thank god.

I’ve been putting off writing my blog for the New Year. Procrastination is not one of my faults, honest, you can ask my friends, family, fellow artists. I make my deadlines.

So why am I dragging my feet, here? I’m not sure, really. But let’s face it, the last year was definitely difficult. I started the year with my wrist in a cast. I couldn’t work in the studio, drive or tie my own shoes. I went through physical therapy which meant more pain as I worked my way through all the exercises. Then there were the job changes. Lay-offs. Fill-in work. Part-time. It meant saying good bye to familiar routines, friends, medical benefits and money.

It was scary. Even though, I know we’re not alone, there was gloom and doom everywhere I looked, it was still hard. What was hardest was not losing faith, in the face of fear.

I tend to be a “Polly Positive’, you know, the person that sees the silver lining in the clouds, the lemonade among the lemons, the openings when doors close. This year, I found myself mired in the pit more than I’d like to admit with tears streaming down my face as I mopped the floor or painted in the studio. I can’t believe I’m writing about this, because at the time, I was so ashamed of myself.

Now, I know that there is no shame in feelings. And that feelings, felt, don’t get in the way of progress. Because although, there were losses last year, there were also gains, too. That was the biggest surprise of all.

In spite of the difficulties and fear throughout the year, I completed more pieces, participated in more shows, sold more work, taught in more places to adults as well as children, did a series of artist interviews, wrote podcasts, artist profiles and book reviews, and met many wonderful new people. And I didn’t realize it all until I sat down to write in my journal on New Year’s Eve.

The year that had started out to look like complete failure was, actually, successful. And not just for me, either. My husband got out of a job that he felt stifled by and into a new place where his talents are valued, used, and being expanded. My daughter has tripled the students she had last year. My son quit one job, found another and has learned a whole set of new skills. Even the dog made progress. Now, she can heel off leash for me, as long as there’s no snow, of course.

We started last year with loss and sadness and ended it with gains and happiness we could never have imagined.

So what do I want to throw out with the old year, then? Dead-end jobs. Duck and cover tactics to try to insure security. Keeping my light low to avoid being seen. Routine and boredom. Fear. Sadness.

Ok, maybe I can’t throw out fear and sadness. They’re feelings that are part of living. What I can keep is the knowledge that feelings of sadness don’t prevent happiness. That fear doesn’t prevent action, in fact, it can inspire it.

Here’s what I’d like to ring in the New Year with – hope in the face of the unknown. Excitement about meeting new challenges leading to growth. Opening up to new people, places and opportunities to be even more thankful for than I could ever imagine.

Meet Jilly:
The dog who needed a new life and a new home.

It was June 2006. Heather, my golden retriever, was in her golden years. At 16, Heather wasn’t getting around all that well anymore. But I was determined and I walked her twice a day, even if it was only to the mailbox or the corner.

About that time, my husband interviewed the people at Guild Dogs about their adoption program for ‘career change’ guide dogs. I already knew about it. I’d heard that it was a long process to get a puppy and could take years. I’m not a naturally patient person.

This time was different. Heather was aging. She was approaching her 17th birthday and her back leg just wasn’t working like it used to. When Michael got the adoption application, we filled it out, figuring, if it took years, that would be ok.

We got a call the next week. After an extensive phone conversation and interview, they made an appointment to check out our house and yard. We passed inspection and we went out to meet Jilly.

I’ve never had a lab but I’ve always had a soft spot for the yellow ones. When we walked in the door, there she was, a sweet, brown eyed yellow lab with a little black nose. We took her for a walk around the grounds and she did really well. I was impressed with her training. After all, she was raised in the Guide Dog training program. But, she was being ‘career changed’ for a reason.

I soon found out that she had a few issues. She liked to play ‘keep away’ which means that she’d fetch the ball but refuse to bring it back. She didn’t come when you called her and again, if you tried to ‘catch her’ she’d play keep away with you, too.

One night, we opened the front door to let a friend in and she bolted out the door. Gone. We searched for hours. Then we went home and sure enough, bouncing happily down the street came Jilly. She found her way home because it was, after all, dinner time. Labs never miss dinner time. It’s happened a few more times since then including a romp in the park when her collar broke.

Now, it’s 2008 and Jilly’s been part of our lives for 2 ½ years. And I’ve been working with her everyday on her issues.

Now she walks over grates without stopping or pulling me off my feet. If a van door slams, she might twitch but she stays heeling at my side. When the front door opens, she goes to her bed and stays. She loves to play ball and now will drop it at my feet, waiting for me to throw it again. But she’s not perfect.

‘Come’ is a dirty word to her. She will not respond to it at all. So, she and I have learned to play a new game called hide and seek. I hide and call out to her, “Jilly, where am I?” She loves to ‘find’ me. She also comes to me when I whistle three times. We’ve been working on off-leash with a ‘follow me’ command. I hold treats in my left hand and tell her to follow me. She does.

I thought that we’d finally done it. I thought that Jilly had gotten over her fears and found a home at last.

The other day, we’d just come back from a lovely, snowy walk in the park; I stomped on the concrete floor to clear the snow from my shoes and off she went. She ran down the driveway and around the corner so fast, I didn’t have a chance of catching her.

So I didn’t. I was so mad. All those months and years of training and she took off just like that. I felt betrayed. I told my husband to forget it. She could just go. I was done trying. I was done training. I guess maybe she was, too. I didn’t know what else I could do.

So I went inside and changed out of my wet clothes, ready to call it over. I’ve always wondered in my heart if Jilly really wanted to be part of our family, or if we were just another place to be ‘trained’. When we went to take her home that first day, she wouldn’t jump into the back of our car. I had to pick her up and put her in. I didn’t know if we’d bonded, even after all this time. And I didn’t know what else I could do to create a bond, then I realized that I was looking for the wrong dog. I was looking for Heather. Two years after Heather’s death, I was still bonded to her. And maybe I always will be and Jilly knew it.

In my closet, socks half off, I started to cry. Yes, I still missed Heather. But, I wanted my Jilly back. I wanted her here, safe and warm with her sweet, yellow head resting on my feet. I even wanted those begging eyes and drooling muzzle next to me at the dinner table. I put my socks back on. I marched downstairs, grabbed my coat, hat, and gloves. My husband grabbed the car keys.

Once I got in the car, I seemed to know where she’d gone. I told my husband to turn left, then right. I could see her in my mind’s eye, she was at the bottom of the hill playing with other dogs. Suddenly, I yelled, “Stop.”

Yes, there she was at the bottom of the hill playing in the snow. I jumped out of the car, ran over to where a woman was standing and told her not to let Jilly go. The woman assured me she wouldn’t and they were trying to figure out where Jilly lived when we pulled up. A man in a house across the street appeared cheering when he saw us. Apparently, he’d tried to catch Jilly and she ran away from him, too. The woman holding Jilly, said she’d been having a great time playing with their dogs in the snow. Rolling and tumbling and snuffling in the soft white drifts.

I grabbed Jilly’s collar and looked down to find her gazing up into my eyes. In those wonderful soft brown eyes, I saw a mixture of recognition, relief and apology. My husband came over with the lease and led her to the car. This time, she didn’t hesitate, she jumped right in. She knew right where she belonged.

I apologized to the people. I tried to explain, it was the sound that had triggered her to bolt. I told them she was a career change dog and I was working with her training everyday. They reassured me, it was ok. They were just glad she was home.

And, so was I. I found Jilly this time. I knew right where she was, because she’s right where she’ll always be, in my heart.