...Old milk cans, now replaced by shining stainless steel containers, waiting by the roadside to be picked up for market.
This drawing was done when we lived outside of Green Bay, Wisconsin, secluded on a rocky cliff above the Bay. Wisconsin is a beautifully unrushed and serene state with deep forests and friendly people. We lived in a cabin with no running water, so we hauled our supply in old milk cans from the closest dairy farmer. He and his family were from Belgium and barely spoke a word of English, yet they were some of the finest Americans I've met.

Deep into the swamps are quiet little shanties roosted on stilts to keep them from sinking into the dark waters. The only way to travel is by a boat, which is tied out front. There is also a long, narrow boardwalk leading to the nearest levee where his horse grazes, and to a platform where, if he has one, is a pick-up truck. I am intrigued with the way these people live - many of them are Cajuns - descendents of Acadians, who still speak a French dialect.
It is a different world in those swamps; the people are not obtrusive or violent, but rather peacably tucked and about the trees and hanging moss.

Beached on a sun-drenched shore with grasses in her battleworn hull slowly taking command. Wind swept sea shores, sailing gulls, and white-washed cottages dot the shores of New England. Such a contrast to the Eastern cities. 1 tried to live in New York, but was never able to condition myself to the environment -1 seemed to suffocate.

Colorado - a word that doesn't just stand for a state -but also for a feeling ... Freedom, nature, wild things, freshness, the smell of pine, the cool, rapid streams filled with mountain trout. Rugged peaks breaking way to wide, expansive plains. 1 can't remember a year that 1 haven't spent time in the Rockies. This drawing is of a miner's cabin built around 1870, during the silver boom. There's a stream winding its way down the mountain, and as it passes the cabin there's a graveyard on the opposite bank where old miners were put to rest.

Hidden far into the mountains is an aging, grandly exquisite, Hunting Lodge .. while following a twisting, climbing trail through the pines, suddenly the trees give way to a lush mountain valley with a swiftly moving river cutting its way through the meadow. It is as if one had just stumbled into a forgotten dream-like wonderland. And there perched on the side of a mountain is the old Lodge standing guard over its 2,000 acre domain. Pine Valley - - I thought of you often as a child.

A perfect place to begin your wanderings on an early morning Creole "Cafe au lait" and fresh hot crullers at the Morning Call warm your soul. Around you is the famous marketplace built in 1791, by oddly enough, the Spanish. It stands on the site of the original Choctow Indian Trading Post. There are fresh fruits and vegetables from all over the world - as well as produce from the Cajun farmers who come as far away as 100 miles to sell their crops here. This part of the Quarter has by far some of my favorite feelings.

Here is another of my favorites. Hidden deep into heart of the French Quarter, not many tourists frequent it. It is a quiet and sort of secretive bar now with rich, soft piano music. It is a good example of French architecture (1772-1791), with its cypress timber structure where filled in with a soft brick that had to be covered with plaster - as did the majority of the Quarter's early buildings. It also has dormer windows which provided living space in the attic. According to local legend, and I thrive on legends, it is here that the Pirates Jean and Pierre Lafitte, posing as blacksmiths, carried on their wild business of smuggling "Black Gold" into the city.

New Orleans exists becaue of the river. It was after the first steamboat successfully navigated the Mississippi and Ohio in 1812 that New Orleans began to flourish. The river controlled the city, both making and taking great riches. In this drawing is a steamboat making its way downstream. The water is low and life along the river is calm. However when she escapes the confines of the levees she spread terror and indescriminating destruction. I feel a yearning to live in that era, as life for a time had graciousness, leisure and peace.

The open range was a huge area of the Great Plains where cattlemen grazed their herds free of charge and free of boundaries that existed in a farming economy. The railroads gave the range cattle industry access to markets and thus brought it into being; then they destroyed it by bringing the farmers' frontier to the plains. The chuckwagon was a familiar" and welcome sight on the long but spectacular trail drives. Range staples for the hard working cowboy were stew, sourdough biscuits, and coffee. Considering the conditions of those "long drives", it's easy to understand why the cattle towns rivaled the mining towns in robust wickedness.

Winter brings on a blanket of snow, sparing nothing in its wake. Inside there is warmth and security. Let the cold winds blow.