A few days ago, my grandkids started back to school after a long, busy summer. Two of them were starting new schools (high school and middle school) and two of them were going back to the familiar halls of the elementary school they had already attended.

All of them had some trepidation about what lay ahead. Who would be in their classes? What would their teachers be like? Would they be able to make new friends? Would the schoolwork be hard? Could they find their way to their classrooms when the bell rang for the next period? 

I understand their anxiety. I have a recurring nightmare that I’m in a new school, the bell is ringing, and I have absolutely no idea where my classroom is. It’s not an uncommon nightmare, I’m told.

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New beginnings are always a little bit scary

This Mother’s Day, I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom and the legacy that she left behind when she died 24 years ago. 

She was a unique woman and a memorable character. Remembering her makes me laugh, cry, and reflect on the remarkable woman that she was and the impact she had on my life. 

Because of her, I’m an artist. 

Because of her, I see the world through a different lens than many people do. 

Because of her,  I value nature and all inhabitants in the natural world. 

Except maybe snakes.

Here are some of the things I learned from my mother, Marie Hickerson Smalling.

"I cannot do all the good that the world needs. But the world needs
all the good that I can do."
~ Jana Stanfield

Like many people around the world, I am horrified and overwhelmed by what is happening to our brothers and sisters in Ukraine. The gut wrenching images and heartbreaking stories move me to tears.

But I'm also heartened and inspired by the heroic acts of everyday people who are doing everything they can to save their country and its people. I'm also encouraged by the resolve of President Zelenskyy, President Biden, our Congress, and the people around the world who are uniting to help.

The question that keeps coming back to me again and again is, "What can I do to help from miles and oceans away?"

With that in mind, I created an original piece of art, entitled "Broken Fragments in a World Turned Upside Down," in honor of the brave men, women, and children who are working so hard to preserve and reconstruct fragments of their former lives in what was once a beautiful country.

I’ve been going through some old photo albums, trying to do a bit of decluttering as well as separating the “treasures” from the Oh-my-God-why-did-I-keep-this? pictures. 

Perhaps you can relate. 

One of the largest photo albums documents a trip our family took to Peru more than 20 years ago. (Some of the photos are inspiring new artwork that I’m working on.)

As I sorted through the pictures, one photo in particular sparked a significant memory for me. It was the picture of the front of a colorful canoe, the bow facing into absolute nothingness.

Hello there!

As part of our quest to see as many national parks as we can before we can't, my husband and I recently visited the two national parks in Hawaii: Haleakala National Park on Maui and Volcanoes National Park on the “big” island of Hawaii.

Our hike in Haleakala National Park, in particular, taught me some important lessons I’d like to share. 

You’re invited to Come Go With Me. 

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about my father-in-law, John Archer, and contemplating one of his favorite phrases.  Come go with me, he used to say.

He was a family practice physician in the Texas Panhandle for almost 40 years, back in the days when doctors made house calls. When the phone rang in the middle of the night, John headed out the door in the darkness, carrying his black doctor’s bag. It contained all sorts of instruments and medicines that he might use to help someone who was sick or injured.

When I came into the family, it struck me how hard John worked and how little extra time he had to spend with his family, whom he loved immensely. It seemed he was always on call and always working. Leisure time was almost non-existent.

Desperate to spend time with his wife and five (yes, five!) children, John enlisted them to accompany him any chance he could. Come go with me, he used to say, when he needed to visit a patient in the nursing home or go to Sears to get a spare part. There was always something that needed fixing.

(Acadia National Park)

Several years ago (2007 to be exact), there was a wonderful movie called The Bucket List starring Oscar-winning actors Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson. It is about two complete strangers who meet in the hospital after they each received a dire diagnosis. They must suddenly come to terms with who they are and what they've done with their lives. They also share a desire to complete a list of things they want to do before they leave this earth. What ensues is an adventure of a lifetime. It's a great movie and I think it may have put the term "Bucket List" into a lot of vocabularies and caused a lot of us to wonder about what we would put on our own lists.

One of the things that my husband and I have on our bucket lists is to see as many national parks in the United States as we can, before we can’t.

What's on YOUR bucket list?

Today, I’m celebrating my grandmother and thinking about the huge legacy she left behind. August 10th was her birthday. And in an odd quirk of fate, it is also the anniversary of her death, 93 years to the day after she was born. 

Nana, as we all called her, was a remarkable woman who lived a gentle, creative, and generous life. She never said a mean word, even when that would have been an appropriate response. (It’s a trait we could all emulate in these contentious times!) She was creative in many areas and took up painting when she was in her 60s, but her artwork took many forms beyond the canvas. 

Perhaps her greatest legacy could be summarized in one word: Love.

In a few words, this is her story:

Hello, friends. I'm excited to introduce you to my new blog, an online journal of inspiration, art, photography, travel, and more.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about a dear friend who greatly influenced the woman I became. July 31st would have been her 101st birthday.

I met Mary Sonnamaker in 1973. I had just graduated from college, married, and moved to Dallas to work for an oil drilling company, where she worked for one of the vice presidents. She was my mother’s age, and I was at a stage in my life where I was really missing my mom.

Mary took me under her wing and became my surrogate mother.