Thanks so much, Tabby. I'm glad you could relate. It seems to be a fundamental part of growing up to realize, after far too long, you're still carrying around the kid you once were. And she's been trying to get your attention all this time...
Thinking about your first impressions of Sturgis as you arrived weeks ago and how shocking & dismal it all seemed
Now you enter the Hills and write of the natural world and it’s beauty and the sense of wonder you experienced as a child., And you and your sister still are in tune with the Hills today
Afterr30 years in Colorado, we visited the small Montana high line town where we bought our first home and our dear Emily was born
We were so excited to return
Alas, a wheat farmer had purchased the house and completely destroyed it so he would have a place to park his combines.
We were decistated,, not even a shred of glass ion the lot ! Our gardens !
Our burials.
We decided to try to redeem our visit by driving a few miles north towards Canada to view an old favorite spot. A vernal wetland that was abundant with waterfowl, songbirds, flowers and teepee rings left by the Sioux many years ago.
Amazingly it was unchanged. !!
Beautiful. ! Chain Of Lakes survives.
It redeemed our faith and led me to
understand the resilience of nature vs the impermanence of that made by Men and Women.
You will always have the Back Hills .The adventures as child or adult will always sustain you.
PS.
Those dads around the fire are missing out on some real beauty in California.
How right you are, Tonya. Made the mistake of eating some off the bush & got quite the surprise. Our cook was an actual pioneer who came West in a Conestoga wagon as a baby. I thank she could make dirt taste like prize-winning brownies.
I could feel you peeling back the layers to a core time for you. Your introspection inspires me to examine my own little girl in the prairies & woods of Chicago's northside.
When you mentioned choke cherries it brought back memories of riding in the back of a pickup from our dig site in SW Colorado. At field camp, a homesteader's log house, we were met with the heavenly aroma of Etha Gilliland's fresh choke cherry pie.
Thank you, Tonya. Your words evoke powerful emotions.
There's a secret club of us who know about chokecherries. Most people look at me like I'm nuts when I talk about them and how amazing they can be. For one thing, you wouldn't make the mistake of eating one off the bush more than once. But in jams and syrups, it's the most complex, dark flavor. The thought of a chokecherry pie sounds like absolute heaven! And I'm so happy I could take you back to your own little girl and all her dreams. Thanks so much, Cherie.
I so agree. I have been giving much thought to the question of why I paint - that little girl is very much a part of the story.
"I feel a responsibility to the little girl....." that sentence spoke to me. Beautiful writing, Tonya.
Thanks so much, Tabby. I'm glad you could relate. It seems to be a fundamental part of growing up to realize, after far too long, you're still carrying around the kid you once were. And she's been trying to get your attention all this time...
The places and ghosts that haunt us. There are forevers that remain inside each of us.
Thank you for the reminder and for sharing your beautiful memories.
Forevers... I love that. I completely agree. Thanks, Matt!
Thinking about your first impressions of Sturgis as you arrived weeks ago and how shocking & dismal it all seemed
Now you enter the Hills and write of the natural world and it’s beauty and the sense of wonder you experienced as a child., And you and your sister still are in tune with the Hills today
Afterr30 years in Colorado, we visited the small Montana high line town where we bought our first home and our dear Emily was born
We were so excited to return
Alas, a wheat farmer had purchased the house and completely destroyed it so he would have a place to park his combines.
We were decistated,, not even a shred of glass ion the lot ! Our gardens !
Our burials.
We decided to try to redeem our visit by driving a few miles north towards Canada to view an old favorite spot. A vernal wetland that was abundant with waterfowl, songbirds, flowers and teepee rings left by the Sioux many years ago.
Amazingly it was unchanged. !!
Beautiful. ! Chain Of Lakes survives.
It redeemed our faith and led me to
understand the resilience of nature vs the impermanence of that made by Men and Women.
You will always have the Back Hills .The adventures as child or adult will always sustain you.
PS.
Those dads around the fire are missing out on some real beauty in California.
How right you are, Tonya. Made the mistake of eating some off the bush & got quite the surprise. Our cook was an actual pioneer who came West in a Conestoga wagon as a baby. I thank she could make dirt taste like prize-winning brownies.
I could feel you peeling back the layers to a core time for you. Your introspection inspires me to examine my own little girl in the prairies & woods of Chicago's northside.
When you mentioned choke cherries it brought back memories of riding in the back of a pickup from our dig site in SW Colorado. At field camp, a homesteader's log house, we were met with the heavenly aroma of Etha Gilliland's fresh choke cherry pie.
Thank you, Tonya. Your words evoke powerful emotions.
There's a secret club of us who know about chokecherries. Most people look at me like I'm nuts when I talk about them and how amazing they can be. For one thing, you wouldn't make the mistake of eating one off the bush more than once. But in jams and syrups, it's the most complex, dark flavor. The thought of a chokecherry pie sounds like absolute heaven! And I'm so happy I could take you back to your own little girl and all her dreams. Thanks so much, Cherie.
"No one was looking for me." That's so much a part of it. It sounds like you know what magic is like. Thanks so much, Connie.