What a Year

Tattered Cover Book Signing

As the title of this blog states, what a year. What an f-ing year. To think my January 2021 post was all about being happy that the wicked 2020 was over… That was good and everything, but 2021 socked me, sucker-punched me and almost knocked me out with surprising health issues and potential life changes that I didn’t see coming. 

At the end of 2020, I contracted Covid and was quite sick for over three weeks. It left me dealing with some long-hauler issues that have gotten much better, but still linger every once in a while, and followed me into the new year.  Then 2021 brought a series of MRIs, specialists, a lot of pain, cortisone injections, a skin biopsy, bloodwork re-checks, a diagnosis of osteoporosis and small fiber neuropathy. In October, I had my first annual Reclast Infusion for osteoporosis. Both vaccines, plus the booster, and always being masked in public are ways I continue doing my part. Fingers crossed that there are no more challenges, but I won’t assume or take anything for granted. 

Two big (really BIG or B-I-G) anniversaries in 2022…this blog will be a decade old. Then shortly afterward, I will enter the shocking decade, the OMG decade, the ‘I can’t believe it’ decade. Maybe I will have a party, or maybe not. After the last two years, I’m just living with gratitude, and trying to remain focused. Very little surprises me anymore. 

Small trips around Colorado, and then my first air travel in over two years: Thanksgiving in Chicago with family filled in the rest of the year. Many thanks to the Tattered Cover Book Store, one of the best independent book sellers in the country, for the invitation to participate in an in-store book signing in November. It felt as if normalcy is right around the corner. My best girl, Lily, remains part of my life.

Finally, an old friend of mine found a poem that I’d written for a high school publication when I was sixteen-years-old. I’ve been writing and drawing ever since I was old enough to use a pencil, and I’d like to share a bit of my teenaged thoughts below. Since titles and proper names can’t be copyrighted, I’ve done John Lennon no disservice with the title. 

In whatever way you choose to celebrate the season…enjoy the holidays. Put the jobs on the backburner and focus on the people in your life first. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and Happiest of New Year! Thanks for the reads. 

 

 

Imagine

By Veronica Randolph (©1978 Veronica Randolph)

 

Imagine soaring high into the sky

As a seagull gliding, spreading its wings to fly.

Imagine seeing the waves crashing onto the beach

Feeling the spray

Seeing the stars

Looking close enough to reach.

 

Imagine a seashell buried deep beneath the sand

Being worn away 

As the waters roll onto the land.

Imagine hearing the surf, its mighty great roar

Sometimes thunderous

Still peaceful upon the shore.

 

Imagine every evening

Seeing a different sunset,

Beautiful colors dancing on the sand, warm and wet.

Imagine the cool breeze during the night

With the moon in the sky

Large, friendly and bright.

 

Imagine sleeping, waking

And living by the sea.

      There being a sense of peace

       Feeling free.

       Imagine.

 

 

 

 

  

Upcoming Book Signing

 

I've been invited by the Tattered Cover Bookstore in Denver, Colorado to participate in a quick book signing on Sunday, November 28th at 3pm. This will be at the Aspen Grove location. Copies of my books, Williamsburg Hill and Daniel's Esperanza, will be available for purchase. I'm looking forward to getting things going again after this too-long hiatus, and appreciate the invitation from this great bookstore. 

Also, it wouldn't be the holidays with me trying to sell my work in a blog post, so here it goes again. In addition to the appearance on November 28th, my books and photographs/art are always available for purchase either in bookstores, big box retailers that sell books, my websites, or elsewhere online.  Below are some screenshots of recent photos I've added to my Fine Art America page; currently a 20% sale is running on all purchases. Check it out at www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com

Hopefully, all of this will push me into starting (or finally finishing) projects that have been hanging around. It has been tough to get motivated. Which brings up something else. If you enjoy a person's work, then say it, promote it, encourage it, give it open and high reviews, share it. By doing this, more people find out about it, more sales are made, more opportunities happen, and it gives the author (artist, photographer) encouragement and a reason to continue. Writing is a solitary business. Writing a book can take a very long time; getting a book published can take years. Knowing that something you've dedicated this much time to doing is actually getting read can be the instigator for creating the next one. If enough people gave it a public shout-out, the opportunities could be phenomenal...book deals, agents, and/or movie options come to mind. We all need a little help. Be kind. Thanks, as always, for reading.

Keep up with my work here, or on my website at www.veronicabatterson.com.

The Playlist of My Youth

One of many albums in my collection

I’ve often written in this blog about the impact music has played in my life, how it fed my imagination and dreams, and its relevance in how I’m able to create. It sets the tone and inspires. My musical discovery began in the same manner as most pre-teens: the extreme dislike of what the older generation of the time favored, and listening to radio stations that reflected my own likes (often when my parents weren’t listening, but much easier to do so when I got my first transistor radio). 

I know most women of my generation rushed to the magazine stands at the local grocery stores looking for the latest issue of Tiger Beat Magazine, which had monthly sensationalistic coverage of the current heartthrobs, with color photo spread accompaniment. So many of those photographs were torn out and taped on my bedroom walls. Tony DeFranco and the DeFranco Family. The Bay City Rollers (which I think is the first time I’d ever seen a kilt, and it was cool. Of course.). Young teens. I was one of them, and it was how I also got to know the music of the time. 

When I was about seventeen, I attended my first concert. Peter Frampton. I’m sure he was featured in those Tiger Beat issues but, by that time, I’d grown out of them.  My tastes were maturing.  Over the years, I would see dozens of artists in concert, some I was fortunate enough to see before they were famous: Cheap Trick, The B52s, R.E.M.... What’s interesting (and wonderful) about my generation is that the great music of that era includes three decades of differing sounds and genres. It endures.

Then MTV launched. I was a communications major (broadcast journalism) when it first aired, and remember sending in an audition tape in hopes of being added as a future VJ (many did). That didn’t happen, of course, but I thought MTV the greatest thing of that time period and watched probably too many music videos at the time.  Many artists of the 1980s owe MTV much in spearheading, if not reinventing, their careers. 

My daughter has some of my albums of that time, or vinyl as it’s called today. She and I were talking about some of her favorites and I told her I’d make a playlist of my own for her. Then I turned to Spotify because you’re able to share a playlist you create with others, but as in most things that involve a password, I couldn’t figure it out because I’m technology-challenged. Oh, well. It takes me a while, and it’s much faster if I just share it here. 

So, I’ve included what I call a playlist of my youth in no particular order. These songs are so relevant to me that every time I listen to them, I’m taken somewhere else…nostalgia does this. This is not a soundtrack of my life (only part of it) because there is so much music that I currently listen to that was created much later, and none of it is listed here. I’ve also not included any tracks by my favorite artists and bands, such as Fleetwood Mac, Eagles (including Glenn Frey and Don Henley solo), U2, Heart, Journey, Elton John, etc. because I like most of the music from these artists. All of this is music of my life. Below are simply individual songs that influenced me in my early years (pre-teen, teen, and early twenties), and I’ve certainly overlooked/forgotten some.  Also, I’m only mentioning the songs and the artists who performed them. If you can figure out Spotify, maybe create your own playlist. I guess I’ll continue using my iPod until it dies. Thanks for reading.

 

For What It’s Worth – Buffalo Springfield

My Back Pages – The Byrds

Get Together – The Youngbloods

In My Life – The Beatles

Drift Away – Dobie Gray

Dance with Me – Orleans 

Coming Around Again – Carly Simon

Will You Love Me Tomorrow? – Carole King

If You Could Read My Mind – Gordon Lightfoot

Alone Again (Naturally) – Gilbert O’Sullivan 

Wedding Song – Noel Paul Stookey

Sentimental Lady – Bob Welch

Sister Golden Hair – America

Ventura Highway – America 

Holiday – Madonna 

Borderline – Madonna

Freedom – George Michael

Father Figure – George Michael

You’re Only Lonely – J.D. Souther

Reminiscing – Little River Band

Just Between You and Me – April Wine 

More than a Feeling – Boston 

Good Times Roll – The Cars

Since You’re Gone – The Cars

How ‘Bout Us – Champaign 

If You Leave Me Now – Chicago 

Just Remember I Love You – Firefall

You Are the Woman – Firefall

Right Down the Line – Gerry Rafferty

Our Lips Are Sealed – The Go-Gos

Rocky Mountain High – John Denver

Imagine – John Lennon 

Lola – The Kinks 

I Melt for You – Modern English

Always Something There to Remind Me – Naked Eyes

Lotta Love – Nicolette Larson

Magic – Olivia Newton-John 

Baby, I Love Your Way – Peter Frampton

Show Me the Way – Peter Frampton

You’re My Best Friend – Queen 

Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds 

Into the Mystic – Van Morrison 

 

  

The Silent Partner

 

On a visit to Pagosa Springs, Colorado, I bought a book called Coyote Cowboy Poetry from a local antique store. Written by Baxter Black and published in 1986, the book is full of entertaining and straight forward thoughts from a person whose bio describes him as an American Cowboy, Poet, and Western Humorist. One doesn’t have to be a cowboy for his words to resonate. 

I would like to share one of those poems here.  For all the partners, spouses, and couples, the ones that built together, started from scratch, and sacrificed together, the silent ones laying the foundation for the exuberant ones, the behind the scenes ones to those in the spotlight, the worker bees to the queen bee, the ones who know the business and how it works but remain in the shadows for that not-so-silent-partner, the ones who take care of the incidentals so the big stuff can happen, and so many more too numerous to mention…The Silent Partner is for all and is timeless. Its message is clear. Appreciation. Humility. Equality. Acknowledgment. 

As for Black, born in 1945, he is a former veterinarian who has written a number of books, all still available for purchase. 

 

The Silent Partner

By Baxter Black

 

Her name’s on the note at the PCA, boys,

Though she might have questioned the loan

She signed her John Henry ‘neath yours on the line

And she will ‘til the kids are all grown.

 

Nobody’s counted the pickups she’s pulled

Or measured the miles she’s put on the rake

Kept track of the pancakes or lunches she’s packed

Or the number of times she lay there awake

 

Praying her prayers for the man in her bed

God only knows, ‘cause He’s keepin’ track.

She’s buildin’ up interest somewhere down the line

To use in a trade on your first cardiac.

 

She puts up with cows she knows you should cull

Scourin’ calves on the livin’ room floor,

Tracks in the bathroom and mud on the sheets, 

Flies in the kitchen from broken screen doors.

 

She patiently listens to stories you tell

Recounting the skill of your blue heeler mate.

She wishes, herself, if that dog was so smart

You could teach that pot licker to open a gate!

 

She offers opinions that seldom sink in

‘Til time, oft as not, proves she was right.

But it’s damn hard to figger how she coulda known?

You’re not the only one who worries at night. 

 

She’s old as the mountain and young as the spring

Timeless in labor and wisdom and love.

Of all of God’s creatures that man gets to share

The wife of a cowman was sent from above.

 

So lay there tonight when you go to bed.

Remember your partner, she’s tried and she’s true.

You’re lucky, my man, to have such a friend

Take care of her, ‘cause she takes care of you.

 

Illustration by Don Gill, as seen in the book

Quotes About Living

 

Lately, I've found the need to read more motivational words that offer wisdom and clarity. While I have a number of books that provide solace, peace and encouragement, there is one little book that I try to reach for every morning. To say it clears my head is an understatement. It's needed during these challenging times when nothing seems to being going in the right direction; when kindness and common decency are missing in how people are treated.

Below are some quotes from the lovely book, Quotes About Living, written by Doe Zantamata. 

Behind each set of eyes lives another wandering soul who, under different circumstances, could have been you. 

Your intuition is a sense that has been given to you not to ignore but to use and and to help you navigate through life. Trust your intuition. If something feels wrong, it probably is. 

Let your intuition be your guide, but keep your mind alert to process what that sense is telling you. 

Forgive yourself for not knowing what you didn't know before you learned it. 

An apology doesn't come with an eraser. Forgiveness doesn't mean memory loss. Once the house of trust is broken, it has to be rebuilt. Things aren't the way they were before, and they may not be for some time. 

Loving and supporting someone is not the same as loving and supporting someone's actions if they are harming themselves or others. The first encourages, the second enables. 

Don't let something entirely out of your control entirely control you. 

Circumstances that were out of your control put you where you started. Choices that are in your control get you where you end up. 

Time must be good at hiding. If you don't make an effort to find it, it sure will sneak up on you. 

The freedom to be yourself is a gift only you can give yourself. But once you do, no one can take it away. 

Fairy Tales and Such

I'm sharing two poems that I wrote for my daughters when they were quite young. One I've shared here before, written with my youngest in mind when she encountered falling snow for the first time. Both have copyright dates decades ago, but copyright still applies. 

What's up next regarding writing is simply deciding which route to pursue. I have three books outlined; maybe I should take a poll with the most popular choice being the manuscript I start writing next. Decisions. 

Thank you to all for "the reads" and don't forget my websites, www.veronicabatterson.com, and www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com for more updates, photographs and artwork.

Fairy Tales

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

©Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

Once upon a time, the story began,

We have heard it over and again.

It happened in a far away place, a very long time ago,

Where kings loved queens, and knights braved places where no one else would go.

 

The dragons breathed fire and villains were mean,

Wizards knew their magic, or so it seemed.

Damsels in distress were trapped high in a tower,

Witches and warlocks fought each other for power.

 

Unicorns were horse fairies that flew through the sky,

Granting wishes to good children they often passed by.

Stardust and glitter mixed together on the pages,

To stay with each reader forever through the ages.

 

This fairy tale kingdom we all seem to know,

Has pixies and purple castles and seven dwarfs who never grow.

What is the moral and what message does the story send?

Just that everyone lived happily ever after.

The end.

Playtime

 

By Veronica Randolph Batterson

 ©Veronica Randolph Batterson

 

A child of three moved far away

Where heavy coats and mittens were needed to play.

For outside it was blustery, cold and wet

“Whoever heard of playing in weather like this?” her mommy would fret.

 

Where they were from the weather was warm and sunny

Here all the children looked kind of funny.

For they were bundled and covered, not a visible face

Resembling martians, UFOs or something from outer space.

They wobbled and they hobbled, barely able to walk

Don’t expect words from them for they’re too cold to talk!

 

So this young child stepped outdoors one day

And looked up at the falling snow to say,

“What are these things dropping from the skies?”

“It’s snow, honey,” her mommy said.

“Well, it’s getting in my eyes!”

 

The Little Boltons

 

Twenty years ago, while visiting London with my family, we stayed in a flat on a street called The Little Boltons. Located in the Brompton District of the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea, I remember the location being convenient to the Earl’s Court Tube Station (which we utilized a number of times), Kensington Palace, and the Victoria and Albert Museum; it was also a nice change from hotels in commercial areas. It’s a neighborhood, and a wonderful place to stay if traveling with children as we were at the time. 

 The Little Boltons form part of the Boltons Conservation Area built between 1850 and 1870, with The Boltons (mansions at a much greater price) to the east. The word ‘little’ is deceptive. A Maisonette (main floor and ground level residence) on this road is currently listed for sale at £6,950,000. This neighborhood is described as being premiere property in the city of London, and I assume most aren’t leased as short-term rentals.

Our stay was in a beautiful semi-detached house, with four flats occupying the structure. Entrance was through the front door for all residents, then each flat had its own private entrance once inside. There was one flat per floor.  A lovely garden was shared via the back courtyard. 

Early in our visit, the resident of the main floor flat greeted us as we returned from a day of sightseeing. I remember her kindness, and the welcome manner she exuded to a couple of American tourists with young children in tow. She invited us inside her home, chatting about the city, and inquiring of our interests and what we had planned for our visit. The traditional furnishings gracing her reception room, the elegant fireplace directly opposite the door, and the beautiful bay window overlooking the front of the residence remain clear in my mind. Imagine inviting complete strangers into your home; an invitation not extended very often two decades ago, but certainly a rare event in today’s world. 

Her name was Shelley Vaughan Williams. I recall mentioning my interest in writing and someday hoping to publish a book. She was very interested, encouraging, and eventually disclosed that she penned one, as well. Entitled When Gazelles Leap, and published in 1997, the book is an anthology of poetry and prose, written after she sustained a critical brain aneurysm. She graciously gave us a copy, inscribing it with a personal message. 

I wish there had been enough time to get to know her; if instant access to information around the world had been available then, it would have been easier to do. She was an accomplished woman, and according to her bio in the book, “Profoundly Pro-American”. This might explain her interest in us. Shelley Vaughan Williams passed in 2016 at the age of 87. 

As for the neighborhood, a search on Google (as I did for researching this post) will reveal the number of prominent people who have at one time owned one of the mansions in The Boltons. However, my husband and I were surprised at discovering someone who called The Little Boltons home at one time. 

At the corner of Old Brompton Road and The Little Boltons, Lady Diana Spencer lived for two years in 60 Coleherne Court while engaged to Prince Charles. Her parents bought the flat for her, which she shared with three roommates. All of the paparazzi photographs of her at the time outside of her apartment were less than a two-minute walk from where we stayed. As my husband asked once I told him of the discovery, “How many times did we walk past it?” We didn’t know at the time, as there were no markers indicating it. Her death occurred in 1997, four years before we stayed there. I read that a marker is in the works to commemorate what would’ve been her 60^th birthday. 

To end, a poem from When Gazelles Leap by Shelley Vaughan Williams.

 

The Inbetween

How do we live and how do we die?

What happens in between?

A child or two who grows away

A marriage or not,

Forget-me-not,

And rue and rosemary.

 

But sometimes inbetween

The monotony proceeding

A star shoots up in the vast night sky

Brave force of love and being

And moonlight, moon-bright,

The inbetween

Is suddenly a rosary.

That Quote from Daniel's Esperanza

 “When you turn around, you’ll see something I bet you’ve never seen before. If it takes your breath away, then you’ll fit in nicely. If you don’t feel anything, then maybe you don’t belong here.” - Daniel's Esperanza, Veronica Randolph Batterson 

 

 

In 2014 my novel, Daniel’s Esperanza, was published and I never imagined a quote from the book would mean so much to so many people.  Someone somewhere used it, applied it to something inspirational, often in reference to the state of New Mexico, attached hashtags and it took off into the virtual world like wildfire. Thank you to all who give me credit for it, and for referencing the book.  I’ve posted about this previously, but I continue to be amazed at its relevance to so many people and that it came from this little book, which means so much to me. I’m grateful.

The setting for Daniel’s Esperanza is New Mexico, and I wrote it to draw attention to the plight of wild mustangs. After researching and visiting a wild horse sanctuary in northern New Mexico, the story evolved to include characters living in the west. The quote comes from dialogue between two characters, Frank and Daniel. Frank is referencing the band of wild horses that Daniel will see for the first time when he turns around.  The book continues to sell, is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle, and can be ordered from any bookstore or big box store that sells books (Target, Walmart, Costco, Meijer, grocery store chains). 

Below are snapshots of some of the places this quote resides. Again, thanks to all who give me the appropriate credit for it.  It’s appreciated.  

Almost Thirteen...My Best Girl

Last week, I had to take my sweet dog to the emergency veterinary clinic. Ongoing issues mostly attributed to the fact she is in her senior years were the reasons, but as I was driving her there I worried it might be the end for her. Antibiotics, an anti-nausea injection, plus an IV helped her recover and 24 hours later she was resting comfortably at home by my side, as if nothing had happened. But it has been a little difficult to focus on much of anything else, as I worry about when the next episode will happen.

Lily will be thirteen on July 3. This sweet golden retriever has been my beautiful dog since she was about six or seven weeks old.  She has been such a relevant part of my life, being there while I completed and published all four of my books, and readily obliging me in being the canine subject model in many of my photographs. She cares very little about being photographed these days, but she used to be this pose-for-anything-supermodel. I've written about her here more than once in this nine year old blog; she's earned many nicknames as I've shared, but the one now is Best Girl, the companion. That's what we become in our older years, and that title is earned. 

Almost thirteen. My patriotic dog. 

Inspiration and Influences

I

 

Shortly after the tragic supermarket events that occurred in Boulder, Colorado, I found it necessary to release some frustration, sadness and anger.  Sitting down in front of an easel, I painted.  It wasn’t the usual session, meaning that I lost track of time, painted without thinking about it, and blasted music from the speakers which were nearby.  Afterward, I felt better, and I suppose it’s the same feeling for others who would approach something difficult by choosing to work out or jog.  In that sense, it’s actually a release of pent-up energy which allows one to cope with things beyond her/his control.  For myself, being able to handle a situation while creating is a cathartic and healing experience.  It hasn’t changed the horrible events that unfolded, or what the families of the victims continue to face, but it was helpful to me.  Each person handles things differently. It was the events of that day that also influenced me to paint as I did.

As I’ve written many times during the nine years and counting that this blog has been going, I find the art of creating begins with inspiration and/or influence.  For myself, it’s a spark, a drop in my lap from the sky moment, or something I’ve planned for a while; it’s always initiated with something…music, reading, history, observing, nature, memories, travel, research, etc. I daydream.  It happens with something as simple as making dinner reservations, or going grocery shopping.  My imagination is easily stirred, and often takes off faster than I can keep up with it.  I always view it as therapeutic, too.  If a person has a story floating around in one’s head, the need to release 90,000+ words is pretty great.  Once those words escape, the intense feeling of accomplishment is unexplainable. However, authors, songwriters, and visual artists (all artists) understand the feeling.  Also, those who create are always influenced or inspired by something and/or someone, whether they admit it or not.

Reading posts that I’ve shared here over the years (and there is a lot of material), reflects the eclectic person that I am.  I shared several times how my book, Williamsburg Hill (published in 2018), came to be written with folklore playing the greatest role in its telling, even though historical fiction was the goal. I’ve written about visiting wild horse sanctuaries, among other research, to complete my novel, Daniel’s Esperanza (published in 2014).  Short stories were written about/around, and included lost love in Italy, and tossing coins in Trevi Fountain for wishes to come true (O Mio Babbino Caro, 7/29/2013); cowboys (multiple times, including Cowboy Ridge and Honor, 1/27/2016); witches  and a woman who was exiled (The Witch of County Down, 5/19/2016), ghosts (multiple times) and a woman trapped in time at a diner (The House at the End of the Road, 12/17/2020); a precipice (Precipice, 7/17/2019) which included a song by Taylor Swift (credit given) and was also not completely fiction; stardust (Stardust, 4/6/2017) and the backstory to a book that’s in the works about finding a lost love in Scotland; the history in short story form of Madame X (Madame X, 6/11/2015); a young man with disabilities being infatuated with a strange and selfish woman (Hang the Moon, Molly Byrd, 11/17/2014); ghosts and history regarding the Trail of Tears (Old Wauhatchie, 7/17/2014); a woman reflecting on her past and her grandmother (She Heard Her Heart, 3/17/2014); a dream sequence (Dance of the Blessed Spirits, 11/19/2013); a madwoman who was a former dancer (La Folie, 9/25/2013); a character encountering an historical figure through a time portal in London (Charing Cross, 4/9/2013); a new take on Jack the Ripper (Jack, 7/19/2012); a woman recovering from divorce (Boxed Life, 5/22/2012); a woman who was nothing but invisible her entire life (Invisible, 1/27/2014); and a man battling a storm and memories of his grandfather (Old Norse Gale, 3/1/2015), plus much more.

I’ve written about living in a haunted house, a wonderful amusement park of my childhood, fairytales, nostalgia, and dreams, soldiers going to war, Boxing Day, the weddings of my daughters, my dogs, my grandmother, music and a radio station of my youth, and poetry. Whimsy and the imagery of antique perfume bottles bearing the scent of past users, a man called to serve in WWII leaving a beautiful note and piece of jewelry for his wife - all words mentioned in Just in Case Uncle Sam Should Take Me (11/26/2012).  A couple of posts that were very personal for me include Overcoming Obstacles (4/20/2018), and Gratitude (2/13/2020). 

Words, places, and characters' names throughout this blog and/or my books: Dorothy, Barbara, Evelyn and Frederic, sweet tea, vintage, St. Louis, Grace, Daniel, antiques, historical fiction, fiction, short stories, New Mexico, Chicago, Jack, Cherokee Nation, Chief Wauhatchie, Native Americans, folk stories, folklore, history, suffragists, 19^th Amendment, photography, art, books, writing, pen pals, painting, cemeteries, travels, Ava, Gitta, Fiona, Ireland, Italy, John Singer Sargent, Paris, Molly Byrd, Harold Brown, angels, memories, Sophia, Penelope, collectibles, Billy and Junie, Sally, Rose and Robert, Edinburgh, snow, winter, Erastus, imagination, hockey, Dan Fogelberg, Eagles (band and birds), Gordon Lightfoot, bandits, Caledonia, William, sorceress, river, Wales, nomadic, horses, gypsies, Vikings, the Edmund Fitzgerald, old Irish cottage, Flanders Fields, Alaska, Nat King Cole…etc., on and on and on.  Coming up for air now. 

Nine years plus is a lot of ground to cover, and a lot of material. In no way have I summed up the total in this post either; it’s simply what I’ve noticed as I skimmed through everything. In doing so, I’ve discovered that some of my characters share the same name.  It wasn’t intentional, but just as in real life people do share the same names so I’ll give myself a pass for it.  

One last thing. If a person has been influenced or inspired by something and/or someone in creating his/her art, it’s kindness in acknowledging it and rewarding it.  Especially so if that person has found great success.  Just think of all the struggling artists who would benefit from that shout-out.  As always, many thanks to the loyal readers, and to the ones who drop in every now and then. 

 

February...the Month of the Bald Eagle

 "I know he'd be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly."  ~  Rocky Mountain High (John Denver) 

Over the years, I've attempted taking photographs of bald eagles in the wild at various locations from Starved Rock State Park in Illinois, Credit Island in Iowa, along the Mississippi River in LeClaire, Iowa and in the mountains of Colorado. With little more at the end of the day than a need to thaw out, warm up and drink something hot to curb the chill, I'd determined that the only good photographs I would ever get were the ones I took in zoos and nature parks that housed rescued birds of prey. I should add that an exception is made for Sitka, Alaska. Viewing bald eagles in Sitka is comparable to seeing a robin anywhere else. They're prevalent and everywhere; yet the photos I took of them there weren't as good as I'd hoped. They ended up being part of Alaska's beautiful landscapes in all of the images.

This year proved different with better timing and a new camera lens. My second visit to Barr Lake State Park in Colorado was a day well spent and one that I'll always remember fondly. It was also my birthday. Seeing over a dozen eagles in the trees, flying and perched on lake ice was a beautiful gift of a day. Also a plus is that I got so many great photos, I've yet to go through all of them. With patience, we're rewarded in the smallest of ways. 

Below are screen shots of these images on my website www.veronica-batterson.pixels.com with the high resolution images viewable there. With the exception of a pair of juvenile eagles near our house in Westminster, all recently uploaded images are from my day at Barr Lake State Park. I continue to add more, so please visit often. As always, thanks for reading (and viewing) what I share here.