Dec 31, 2018

Hope

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Hope shimmers
Waiting in the wings...angels...
feathers left in their waking moments.
Children aware,
Vibrational pull to the wing area...
Always aware. 
How blessed are we (as so called adults) to watch these miracles,
Each child that is born upon this earth... 
 a miracle. 
Lest us not forget. 
So when we gaze into the mirror (at a so-called adult)... remember... 
you were once 
Children.
Pssst, Peter Pan are you in there? 









Dec 21, 2018

Arrival of Winter Solstice

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Solstice... a time when the sun (sol) reaches it's lowest point in the sky...the shortest day as the full moon abides. 
Time for reflection and settling into the next chapters of our lives. Giggles abounded this week as we thought of that old soap opera..."These are the Days of our Lives". 
We seem to be in the mix of a soap opera at times, and this too shall pass as we learn to define our own unique roles upon this earth. 
I'm sharing my creation of "Michael...the Archangel". The warrior spirit that lives on,
protects & guards with furious weariness. 
I am ever aware and grateful 
for angelic spirits.

Dec 17, 2018

Young & Foolish

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Images: Port Aransas, Texas


When I was Young & Foolish
my Ego
 Lived Larger than Life 
within my Brain. 
Almost Rendering my Heart Useless...
Fighting Back 
for an Unencumbered Heart,
proved to be a Battle.
At 60 the small Girl of Wonder & Play
Is Returning to the Land 
That Surrounds my Heart. 
I Welcome
With Gratitude
Her Arrival
Her Existence. 




Dec 9, 2018

Enya Says

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My friends. It’s been some time since my last penning. Thank you to you kind souls who thought I was afflicted with some fatal canine circumstance and subsequently threw mutterings and mummerings at the cosmos on my behest. The truth be known (a common human expression), I have been on Bostie Sabbitical. You academics out there know what what a German Shepard act is required to submit the cavalcade of forms, secure actual copies of ones legal papers and present a worthy case for my disappearance into the semi legitimate world of thought called Sabbitcal. Yet, to my surprise and delight, my proposal was approved! Let’s hear it: ARF, ARF and big BOW WOWS.!

Now that I have been officially relieved for one year of all former mundane responsibilities such as taking care of Annie and Clark, I have thrust myself into thinking the larger thoughts for which we Bosties have the necessary DNA.  To date, I have nothing to report. Daily, I read the papers, watch diverse movies on dogflix, occasionally attend a dog-town meeting and burn a little incense that Annie purchased in New Mexico. Nothing, Nada, zip (I learned that word from a Schnozer), no scorching electrical activity has arrived in this Bostie brain. Nevertheless, I am committed to sticking with healthy routines. I roust myself each morning and check out the new smells at this Ranch, work my old trap line, and yelp when someone new pulls into the yard but it’s the same “hey pooch, how’s it goin”? This is not what a learned experience like a sabbatical is intended to produce. I was in search of higher ground free of the scent of others like me. If this awkward trend persists when I am required to report to my committee at conclusion of my sabbatical, my fear is the members will begin to think of me as a lesser,  or worse..reconsider my pedigree. 

Goodness and apologies. I’ve just read my penning and I’m not altogether happy with it.  Thinking about serious matters can cause fur reduction in a Bostie and it’s leaching from me as I write and this is not a good thing. Yet, like the humans with whom I share space, I get up each new morning scratch myself, crunch on a little Bostie chow, and wonder how I can be a little better Bostie.  Be assured, my daytime naps run amok with dreams of desert, rogue lizards, salsa, mariachi rthrumns, and lapping up some of that strange tonic pitched from Clark’s glass when he goes to bed. It always makes me dream of olives. It’s all just around the bend. 

Dec 7, 2018

Life upon this planet... how I love thee

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Your journey will be my golden harvest...
I heard this phrase somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
Baking golden refrigerator cookies with walnuts floating in their succulent brown sugar crevices... memories of mom & dad are floating everywhere. They so loved this cookie which I hold in high regard, much like the angels who float over my thoughts each and everyday. I would be gently lost without these angels. Raphael, Michael, Gabriel, Ariole... names that float in on the tip of my tongue. They live within my body, within my art and within every part of my abstract thinking.

Looking upon our children I am well aware that their journey is a delightful harvest for my senses. They have sprouted into the most amazing live creatures who planted their seeds with other delightful creatures and wahlaaa!
More sprouts that are filled with so much potential!
Isn't life grand upon this planet. Never lose sight of not only the golden rings but the cookies hot from the oven, the smiles of children and the pure delight of giggles from those small grandchildren! Not to mention the youth that we touch with our lives... how I love thee!
Bring on the cookies!

Nov 25, 2018

Christmas Celebration and Tradition!

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Come Celebrate!

When: December 8, 2018  1-6 pm

Where: 3317 Blackfoot Valley Ranch Rd., Lincoln MT

Come join us in our celebration of the Christmas spirit through food, drink, wonderful art treasures, children’s creations & gifts of the season. 
This event takes place at Annie Allen & Tracy Clark’s “Onward Ranch” located on 3317 Blackfoot Valley Ranch Road in Lincoln, Montana. from 1 to 6 pm with the lighting of luminaries at dusk. 
We will have a warm bonfire and a chili feed. Beverages will be served along with Christmas cookies! 
Artists include: Lisa Gibson, Sally Bogaert, Judy Johnson, Mary Jean Martin, Tammy Jordan & Annie Allen. Artwork  & students creations will be shown in the teacherage! Door prizes will be happening along with gifts of the spirit for all attending. 
Come & join us for this yearly event! 

Nov 19, 2018

Settling of Season

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As the season of winter approaches I am once again reminded 
of the term cocoon. Wrapping one's heart, soul & thoughts 
in an expanse of soft cloth, warm embers with a crusty crunch of 
white snow to top it off. 
Almost feels delicious to the tip of the tongue...
The memory of spring, summer & fall 
lay gentle on the mind. 
Yes, Bears have a wonderful idea...
time for resting the spirit and facing new challenges in the spring.
I, my friends, plan on cocooning up in the sky loft 
watching the snow blow by
painting at the drafting table and releasing those lovely images
that reside in my mind...
Warm winter blessings 
to all. 

Nov 5, 2018

A Crystal Ball

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Images by Annie Allen
I am searching for that crystal ball ...holding keys to all my sacred spaces and thoughts. I am slowly filtering those thoughts that appear in my dreams, sifting through the fibers of memories lying hidden within. 


Dear Crystal Ball, 
               Help me to define my space, define my receptacle that welcomes those who are in need for Annie's Verve, my old space with new potential. 
                     One would call...name...justify it as purpose or passion, perhaps. 
                                 It is the next step of a complicated journey towards an art-driven life. A life of listening to the whispers that arrive on the wind, the whispers that arrive from the sacred box that holds my bones, minerals & treasures from childhood. 
                                            As the mist dissipates I am aware of stairs... stairs to my heart. 
                                                    I thank those stairs, those stars that brought "Ordinarily Sacred" by Lynda Sexton into my life. Due to this marvelous book the filters are lifting one by one. Cocooning... hibernation has begun. 
                                                                             
Definition of receptacle...
                                                                                         
Holder of Dreams...
                                                                                                     Container of all that is Sacred,
                                                                                                                             Within. 
Annie


Oct 22, 2018

Humility

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Humility Series



“Born of Great need in a World of Consumption”
This series is created on humble surface matter. They are meant for people who connect to humility and the need for quiet thoughtful perspective.
Each piece was born from a journal entry and then recreated on simple brown Kraft paper.
I have sealed the paper with a polyurethane but like all good things in life it will eventually break down and return to the earth of which it came.

“Truth be known, Nothing in Life could ever be possessed Indefinitely”


“It was all about Surface, Tension and Tools of the Trade Dancing upon Varying Surface Matter It was about Response”

Click on each image
to view the detail. 

Sep 13, 2018

Life Sprinkles

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My heart is thumping vastly tonight
          It has pumped and thumped since Tuesday night when a live concert from New Orleans
settled into my bones and my chest. Brass tingled my senses with an awareness of life's possibilities. As I gathered my wits Wednesday morning, enjoyed a magnificent breakfast in Missoula at the Catalyst Cafe (highly recommended) with my partner, spirits soared towards home aware that the world was filled with incredible talent .. including my own.
               Students arrived that night ... I soaked them up as they expelled stories, enthusiasm, promise and hope. Almost draining to the senses but magnificent. Young people are treasures. They bump into us, turn us in circles and cause heavy sighs. I am younger from just their presence.
                       Thursday arrived and I found myself helping at my ole haunt "Lincoln School" with some substantial new talent from a distant Lincoln area. Quite charming, talented and full of fresh vigor. Yet, with my current state of mind, fumbling pouring of emotions seemed to expel themselves from my crevices. What in heavens name was this? I have hidden myself away from the past quite substantially and with great resolve. Smack there was hidden charming nuances of trembling memories.
                         
  I settled into a walk in the Sculpture park...haunting memories and unresolved issues kept cropping up. Wanting something larger, vaster for a community seemed to be haunting me. As if I knew what was needed for so many that lived in this rural area... huh? The sense of history, of place, of landscapes rested in my senses. We all so want to just fit in to this landscape. I find myself thinking out loud... 3 generations of Daniels have wandered these lands in the Blackfoot valley and yet can we claim it as our own... hardly... can anyone claim it?
     Spilling my guts to a friend helped, walking helped... expelling air helped.
And then a call from a top a mountain arrived from my son. What an amazing call. To hear his voice so relaxed in the breathtaking surroundings that he was enjoying with his son. He called just to smile with me in the warm sunshine, to fill me in on the joy of the mountain. What pleasure in the hearing of his cares and worries dissipating on top of that mountain. A pleasure that lies for all of us to enjoy. What great pleasure these mountains hold.
                         The mountains care not about how much money we have, who we are, which caste system we belong to, how we voted, what clothes we chose to wear, if we follow a certain religion or not, how we make our living or the color of our skin.
                                The mountains, the oceans, the trees, the living creatures, the fire inside, the wind around... indifference... just never-ending beauty.
Life sprinkles arrived tonight... with them cleansing.

Aug 3, 2018

Clogged Drain

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There are days that produce an abundance of pin pricks in the ego and the psyche. So much so that our breath becomes ragged and our tears become mental.... mental you say... yes heavily laden with burden. I often felt that I was born into giving... into giving of spirit, of love, of the act of creating. I was born into these patterns and perplexities. I had no choice in this matter. Perhaps, I could stuff them in a backpack (some do you know), I could pursue a career that others related to or admired or etc. etc. A career that paid the bills, that allowed me a tidbit of voice in small western communities that thrive on fox news that said ahhh she is one of us.
But I have walked alone for a great deal of my life. Bless those around me for trying to understand... the joke was "must be nice in Annie's world".
The pain begins when you try to help community by providing a service ... through your talents. What a fool I am ...this is not my art market! Yup I could just hear my professor... foolish child.. know your art market. And you say "I am donating my product" but... if your product is not valued why would you donate it?
Then the day comes to a close with a dear friend, a fellow artist, passing away... gaining his angel wings. He was labeled with ...A "Mental" illness. Damn, our world is harsh.
Our world prefers cookie cutter templates that fit the mold. Remember we are not born alike. Being an individual takes courage and after my tears are run out tonight I will seek courage once again.
But for now, I will drink wine and cry... for Malcom and for so many that were born into the world of art... born to create.

Bless those angels.

Jun 10, 2018

Reflecting upon my waters

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Hmmm, let's look inside and see if we can truly pick up on our patterns that have caused some mischief along the way... yup they live inside me... way down deep in the bottom of my backpack (knapsack) that I carry upon my shoulders. This backpack has left huge dents in my shoulder psyche along the way. 
The dents, though, cause reflection and insight. Thus balance between light and dark is once more obtainable as compared to ignorance which isn't always bliss due to an active mind and a need to improve my life as I hike along. 
I've been blessed with an active mind... 
or have I...
Still waters run deep and then they bubble to the surface you know. 
This composition is just being finished below. 
My thought patterns: "The Harmony between Worlds, Both Archangels & Dream Angels: Light versus Dark, Harmony versus Discord, and the acceptance of both for Forward Movement"

Apr 2, 2018

Enya Says.

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Although no one asked asked me, here's what I'm thinking today on this 2nd day of April. Do you remember that 1960's song by Larry Verne, "please Mr. Custer, I don't wanna go." Well, I have adapted the melody to beseech Annie to leave me here and not drag me back to the snow. She's not listening as I can see her loading up our stuff for the return trip. I attempted to plead my case to clark but he's taking a siesta. You should know that I caught my first lizard yesterday. It did not taste so good, this is because it was already dead by the time I sunk my jaws into his carcass.. It was a lizard cadaver to be sure. I did not see the XXXX's in his eyes before I secured him in my jaws. No more lizards for me this year! My Mom, Annie and her friend Traci and her adult child have been here for a few days. They all seem liberated when they are together. I told clark about this observation and he agreed. It's the 3rd time clark and I have agreed in one month. I'm logging it in my journal as I believe it's a new school record for us.

Tomorrow we are loading our rears into the Ford F 150 and heading north to Montana. I can only hope that one of the drivers takes an unanticipated left  turn to the Pacific Ocean. I love the surf. I do not swim well because I am a Bostie....we sink, but the suds on my withers feels good. Annie has a splendid tan and clarks toes appear darker, they both sport their flip-flops well. Here's to you fine citizens of the world.

Enya











Life's Blessings

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Well our travels are coming to an end for this time period. We were blessed with many social engagements which provided delightful musings, delicious food, tasty drink, and fodder for consideration. Perhaps the old saying "Rest is for the Wicked" could have applied to our vacation. We certainly began to wonder when we reflected on our calendar this morning. Attitude provides great latitude and I'm always reminded through lovely moments that I'm blessed.
This morning, as our loved ones sent gentle messages to be safe due to storms, we were reminded of how fortunate we truly are. We hope to bottle the sunshine up and bring that sunshine home. That sunshine might be a smile, a laugh, a sweet trinket, a memory or a thoughtful gaze. We are bringing these home.
We are bringing home exuberance, plenty of love and hopefully some respite for the weary. As always with travel I am reminded there is no place like home. The land rises up to meet your feet and travel up your legs through your torso to warm your heart. Home is where your heart resides.. pure and simple. 


One of the great paradoxes of our lives is that we are all, where ever we call home,  in this together. Despite beliefs, despite hardships, despite colors of the skin, despite all obstacles...we are in this life together. How blessed are we. 
Love to you all today and everyday. 
Annie












Mar 18, 2018

Enya Says

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Enya Says:

Well sports fans, I've been in Arizona for three weeks now, give or take a week. As I've aged my personal calendar has a fudge factor. Even clark with that weighty calendar he trucks around everywhere gets confused about what day it is. We are staying at the casita owned by Heinz and Gisela. I have stayed here before and it suits me well. Heinz and Gisela like me and I like them. The only thing I am disappointed about is the lack of lizards. I do not like them and and they feel the same about me. I have searched and scoured their usual hiding spots but they are still holed up. I heard Annie say to clark that this Wednesday is supposed to be 80. I've read that lizards like it hot so I am saving all of my energy for Wednesday when I hope to give them pursuit. I don't know what I will do if I snag one but I'll figure that out on Wednesday. 

On Friday a squadron of humming birds arrived in the casita backyard. I heard Heinz say they come from South America, a place I don't know anything about. Heinz is well read so I take his word about a number of things. I think humans call it "faith." You have to be wary of humming birds as they are pugilistic and will strafe you and try to boss you around and make you do things you don't want to do.  Do not underestimate them especially if you are slow moving. I never wear my bright colored clothes outside once they show up. I am having fun and I see that Annie and clark are feeling the same. I do not miss the snow in Montana and sometimes I feel bad for my friends to have to deal with a bucket of snow every day. Thanks to my Mom, Annie for letting me pen this and saving room in her blog for my thoughts. Good pooping and positive thoughts to all you dogs. 





To Memories To Grandchildren..

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"Leaning into the Wind" is a collaboration of love and spirit put together (edited) by Linda Hasselstrom, Gaydell Collier, & Nancy Curtis. I discovered this treasure years ago while wondering through a small bookstore letting my hands drift over books, viewing titles, picking up on the energy that floats from the surface and words. It is a book written by women, some professional and some hard-working with select words that resonate with all of us who love the land and those who toil on the land. These women are from the Dakotas, Montana, Wyoming, Nebraska & Colorado.
I could include so many special short stories, poems, etc. but I chose this one below for today. The discussions have been long and deep on our travels through Arizona. Where do people hail from, how long do they stay in the southwest, how difficult is it to leave grandkids, what about two homes... etc, etc....
No simple answer exists and of course the riddle is as fun to consider as it is to roll around in the back of your mind (or mouth if you insist). I know if and when we decide to be south for more than a few months the children and grandchildren will visit!
My grandchildren (as it is for many of you) are dreams come true. Now this is not to say that they are my children to raise but what delights that they have followed my genetic trail and bare resemblance to who, what, how and what we think about. This is an age of reflection that finds delight in the antics of small hands and playful endeavors. So to Jae bird, Triston, Layla, Klea, Ridge, Ava & Tegann... great love and anticipation of future joy.


For the Grandchildren, Coming to the Ranch. By Elizabeth Canfield

Soon summer, returning, will bring you here again,
And during these sweet days of early spring
Coming after winter's stringent pause,
I hurry to make ready for you,
To gather gifts that will bring my own renewal
As I watch your days of childhood move along.

You'll kneel to see each flower,
Hear the songs of birds and frogs and crickets,
Find excitement in the rivulets
That follow thunderstorms,
Not pick up baby kittens until
Their eyes come open, and transfer
Tiny tadpoles from the dwindling puddles
Into the larger pond, so they may live.
You'll care about the little horse
Who carries you so cheerfully,
And leave horsehair from the currycomb
Where birds can find it to build nests.

You'll learn that wild things must be free,
Yet know your lot is to be tamed
By such small things as making beds
And brushing teeth and cleaning bathrooms
And finding hampers for the dirty clothes.

With sorrow you will see
There's no happy ending for the hawk
Who hit the highline,
Or the little lamb who couldn't nurse-
That the race is not always to the swift
Nor the battle to the strong.
I hope you learn that only under truth
Do we find solid ground.

I'll strive to guard you from
The permanent self-pitying adolescence
Where so many grown-ups stay,
And help you keep a measure of innocence-
Not enough to make you gullible, but sufficient
To guarantee you hope,
And a sense of wonder
As you step out to find your way.











Mar 5, 2018

Textural Feelings

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Textural 

                   

Feelings
Thoughts
Shaken in Grey

As Hand Reaches for Shapes
Confirmation of Life 
Arises


Sun 
Filters Through
Reminding 
Confirming
All Will Go On. 
Live Life To Fullest 
Measure. 
Sharp As A Tack


The Bend in the Road 
Calling
Imploring


A Hint of Color
Awaits.