Like the old black and white television show called, “Green Acres”, I am a city girl who moved out to the country to raise horses. I live in Elizabeth, Co with my husband of 30 years and I have three grown kids, three horses, four dogs, and five acres. Since this move I have learned things like don’t stop moving in gooey mud unless you want to get stuck. I have walked out or my boots more than once. I am just sure there is a blog post in that lesson somewhere. I have strung electric fence, mowed grass (I use that word lightly…mostly weeds!), scrapped hooves, and stacked hay (not my favorite). I have fed horses when it was 12 degrees inside the barn and mucked stalls. It may not seem all that glamorous and you may wonder why I write about beauty?
I am definitely not a cover girl. I hardly even know how to put on make-up although I can successfully apply lipstick and blush, anything else is a gamble. I have learned that beauty shows up in my everyday life. It lives on the misty horizon of morning and it hovers around the moon at night. It speaks to me in the flight of a bird and it whispers on the wave of a blade of grass. A mere color on a wall can seep into my soul and delight.
I am told that my eyes twinkle when I talk about Jazz. I love music of all kinds but I am particularly fond of Jazz. I am a jazz piano player who loves beauty in its many forms. Music lifts the heavy heart and is ointment to the wounded spirit. It speaks without words and ministers without request.
I often bask in the beauty of an orange sunset and dream to the red glow of dawn. Colors inspire me and I find it hard to walk past even an old graffiti-ed wall without a pause and a wonder. I love art and consider myself an artist. Art museums are places of quiet pause for me. I love people and my heart aches for anyone who has lost the beauty of who they are.