The Things That Hold On

I’ve claimed old “Cliff things” over the years and woven them into my studio and life - at first as a way to move through grief, and always as a way to honor his presence.

Cliff had so many tire chains draped from the stout branches of the trees around his cabin, it was as if the forest itself wore his handiwork. I’ve since used those chains to adorn not only my studio, but also his cabin (now a vacation rental) and his old sawmill which is slowly being transformed into an office and workshop for Raymond.

The curvy tractor wrenches are a collection of my own. Gathered slowly over time, but with new devotion during the quiet solitude of Covid.

Crystals and rust. Stones and glass. Spirit and steel.

But the most precious tradition of all - is the springtime hanging plant.

Every spring, Cliff used to bring a plant to brighten the front of my studio; one of his many quiet way of showing up, of tending. He’d hook it onto the frilly, wrought iron hanger outside my door, like clockwork.

The first spring after he passed, my mother-in-law arrived with a plant in hand and a card that simply said the plant was from Cliff.

I cried. Hard.

That spring, I gently hung the old timber sling hook (one Cliff once used) onto the frilly one. Then I hung the “Cliff plant” from it.

Some gestures are more than tradition.
They’re echoes of love…

A Quiet Sendoff from an Old Companion

bronze bison sculpture at Bozeman Airport

There’s a quiet comfort in finding an old friend just when you’re about to leave - even if he’s made of bronze. I carved this young buffalo from Black Walnut in my 20s. Frankly, he carved a part of me.

Now, decades later, he waits, steady and silent - a patient companion at the threshold of so many journeys. I leave, I return and still he waits, steady as the mountains that first shaped us both.

Mother’s Day at the Filigree Altar

The grouse began drumming as the sun was just beginning to streak pink across the horizon- a low, rhythmic pulse echoing through the trees, like the forest remembering the heartbeat of spring.

Barefoot, I stepped onto the soft green grass. The earth, still dappled with patches of melting snow, welcomed me with a chill and the thrum of new life.

I carried a steaming cup of ceremonial cacao to the small, white filigree garden set; an heirloom once belonging to my grandmother, then my mother. Their hands touched it. Their stories linger in its delicate curves.

As a child, I held tea parties for stuffed animals and imaginary friends on that delicate-looking furniture when it beckoned to me from the manicured lawn of my grandparents’ Nebraska farm. Now an altar, the white, doily-like filigree carries more than its weight in wrought iron. The bench holds memory, moonlight, magic, and the soft laughter of children across time.

I sat. I prayed. I sipped. Heart open, I honored the women who shaped me - now beyond the veil, yet so deeply present. Their love stirs in the breeze, shimmers in sunlight, and wakens the motherliness in my bones.

Izar

“I felt compelled to look at ‘Izar.’ My focus immediately spiraled into his eye. I felt jolted, shaken, and then flooded with soothing waves. As if I was being held, contracted with and released. It was something…flow.”

The words above were recently shared with me via text by someone who has this raven print “Izar” in his life.

Alchemy through art.

Click here to view the whole painting

Happy Birthday Tala

Ten years ago this BIG little spirit came into this world and found her way into hearts. Born the day after New Year’s, we brought her home the day after Valentine’s at just 5 weeks old. Seems like simply months ago rather than years. Raymond and I had to do the math a few times together to be certain that she is already a decade old. Full of life and overflowing with smarts.

Happy Birthday Tala.

Tala is ten…!

Chasing Frost: Ice Climbing at The Cooke Out in Cooke City

Nestled in the rugged terrain of Montana, Cooke City is a hidden gem with a tight-knit community of just 77 residents and blissfully devoid of cell service. Last weekend, Raymond and I had the pleasure of returning to this remote enclave for the second annual ice festival, The Cooke Out, masterminded by our friend Aaron Mulkey—a stellar athlete and the driving force behind Coldfear.

The Cooke Out is not your typical festival; it's an intimate, grassroots gathering that draws ice climbing enthusiasts from across the region to celebrate their passion amidst the stunning frozen waterfalls of Cooke City. Unlike larger, more commercial festivals, The Cooke Out offers a unique, personal experience that reflects the spirit of the ice climbing community—bonding over shared challenges and the raw beauty of Montana's winter landscape.

Each ascent on the icy crags not only tests my physical limits but also sparks a surge of creativity. The majestic, frost-laden settings fuel my imagination, translating into dynamic forms and themes once I’m back in my studio. These adventures outdoors are not just escapes—they are essential to my artistic process, providing fresh inspiration that I channel into my sculptures and paintings. The seamless transition from the exhilarating heights of ice climbing to the contemplative solitude of my studio is where my creativity thrives, shaping art that echoes the wild beauty of Montana.

"Hakuko" - from "The Secret Keeper Series"

Created with mixed media: burned wood, gold leaf, turkey skull, lingerie and feathers

Each skull is a thumbprint of the life it bore.  Naked.  Stripped from the colored clothing and of flesh; vulnerable and venerable.  Bones whisper.  

I’m drawn to the whispering.  I listen.  I respond.  I adorn.

“The Secret Keepers” series were born during the weeks spent in service to ten turkey skulls and their whisperings.

“Hakuko” is adorned with remnants from my own nightgown along with Blue Jay feathers and plastic pearls from my wedding preparations - mounted on gold leaf and burned wood.

I couldn’t be more thrilled with the special being who purchased “Hakuko” at my studio open house last month. Today I will carefully pack and ship the piece to its new home in Tucson.

Please respond, call, email or text if you are interested in seeing more of the “Secret Keepers”

(the feathers were sustainably sourced in the UK)

My life changed forever...

Thirty years ago lightning struck. That charged bolt of light from the Thunder Beings led to one of the absolute greatest blessings and dearest loves of my life.
Cliff saw the lightning strike while logging with two buddies up Smith Creek in the Crazy Mountains; then they saw the smoke rise. Winds had already whipped the fire into a blaze when they got to it but they worked together to saw trees down to protect a batch of cabins. The buffer zone Cliff, Ralph and Mo created during the hours before the Forest Service arrived saved what turned out to be third-generation-owned historical cabins.
Thirty years ago this month when I returned to the Forest Service office in West Yellowstone after a 4-day hitch alone in the backcountry as a wilderness ranger, I was immediately sent along with another fella to the Crazies to help fight what had become a large 5-division fire.
A few days later in a quirky twist of fate, Cliff and I ended up working together as a two-person saw team on the Smith Creek Fire. I’d never seen anyone so skilled with a saw. His biceps were as big around as my thighs. He wielded a 36” bar on his saw with calm coolness and eyes that sparkled like Santa Claus.
The friendship begun in the blackened soot on steep slopes beneath blue skies defies definition and forged much of who I am, where I live and how I show up in this world. I’ve grieved him perhaps more this October than a handful of the last Octobers. Autumn this year has played out much like it did that season, languid and long with lavish foliage, starry nights, exceptionally warm days and a handful of dramatic storms. The past few weeks I’ve shed tears beneath stars, at sunrise and sunset and spaces between. I’ve also reveled in the warm fuzzies and awe of the love we shared for each other and this mountain.
I am lucky. So. Damn. Lucky.
Everyone should have a Cliff in their life. I can’t imagine my life without having had him in it.
Happy Birthday dear Cliff! I miss you beyond words. I love you dearly. Eternally.

Delightful Evening celebrating autumn and the arts at my studio...

For a few moments near the middle of the evening there was a slight lull in the amount of people surrounding me during which I heard Brad’s deep rich voice as he sang “Burning Ring of Fire.” Ah…my bones simultaneously melted and skipped with happiness. I excused myself, slipped out the door and relished the beautiful autumn evening Momma Nature provided as a stage for the talented friends who shared their magic at the mic.

The studio open house was a whirlwind with enthusiastic and curious guests fulls of questions and shares provoked by my creations and the beauty of this place and space. Raymond and I were so busy engaging with the few hundred people who showed up that we forgot to take photos. Thank you Kostas for capturing one of the savory slices of memories from a rare and special night graced with goodness.