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Fat Cow Studio.
Texas autumn
There’s a shift in the air, even if the thermometer hasn’t quite caught on yet. Texas doesn’t always give us the crisp, cool mornings that other parts of the country welcome in September, but the signs of autumn are subtle and sure if you know where to look. (Bob...
Dog days of summer
The dog days have settled in, draping the land in a heavy quilt of heat. Morning light is soft, with a whisper of cool, but by noon the sun stands high and unyielding. The air hangs still, except for the slow sway of grass in a hot breeze. The pastures lie quiet under...
August rain
Click August Rain After weeks of Texas heat, August rain feels like grace falling from the sky. The pastures drink deep, horses and cattle stand still, and the sound of rain on the back porch roof soothes the soul. Enjoy August! Until next time, be...
Morning routine
Mornings here aren’t rushed, they unfold. The sun peeks over horizon, warming the tops of the cedar trees and sending long golden shadows across the pasture. I step onto the porch with coffee in hand, still barefoot, still waking up myself. It’s quiet, but not silent....
Texas summer
I’ve lived in Texas for over 40 years, and I’ll be honest, I’m still not used to the 100° and up heat. The sun can be downright brutal, and by mid-July, I find myself dreaming of crisp autumn air and cozy winter mornings. Still, there’s a raw, rugged beauty to Texas...
Someone who is still out there
There’s a particular kind of grief that doesn’t come with a funeral. No flowers. No casseroles. Just quiet absence. It’s the loss of someone who’s still out there, living, breathing, carrying on, but not in your life anymore. Maybe it was a slow fade. Maybe it was a...
Summertime sunsets -inspiration for pottery glazes
There’s something about a summertime sunset that speaks the same language as clay. Maybe it’s the way the sky slowly shifts from gold to ember, or the soft wash of rose that lingers just before night settles in. These skies feel familiar—like the inside of my kiln...
My mother’s garden
I found myself in my garden, surrounded by the flowers my mother once loved. This garden is mine—planted in my time, in my rhythm—but still, she’s here. Listening to the birdsong, I heard her laughter, soft and familiar. She was there in the dancing of the...
retirement anniversary
One year ago today, I stepped into retirement—though it didn’t begin the way I imagined. I was caring for my husband after his knee replacement, and just as he began healing, a serious blood infection set him back. Those early months were tough, but by September, he...
Horses
There’s a quiet kind of healing that happens when you stand beside a horse. It’s not loud or dramatic. It doesn’t come with fanfare or applause. It comes in stillness—in the soft exhale of a warm breath, the calm gaze of a deep brown eye, the rhythm of hooves meeting...
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