I became an artist in my mid-forties. Before that, I’d been busy chasing other goals. I’d thought I was meant to be a doctor, but in medical school, I discovered I didn’t like sick people. Marrying a sheep farmer promised an escape, but that didn’t end well. Back to graduate school. I got my MBA, discovered that I loved teaching, and studied for my Ph.D. I fell in love with a wonderful man, wed, and had two beautiful daughters. My life was perfect. Until he died.

Years passed. I fell in love again. With a woman. Something I’d never seen coming. But love is love. She moved in with her kids. I took a leave of absence from my teaching career and focused on blending our families.

I needed to keep my mind engaged. I’d always been busy with something---the farm, graduate school, teaching, and raising kids. Art was never in my life, but I was fascinated with art quilts. Why quilts? I’m not entirely sure. I’d taken an introductory quilting class when my husband was ill but never finished the project. But somehow, the creativity of art quilts spoke to me, and the joy I felt when sewing confirmed I was on the right path. I rediscovered a sense of purpose and was soon competing nationally with my textile art.

Nature was my artistic inspiration, and I sought to translate what I knew and saw in new ways. I’d always collected acorns and rocks and pinecones. Now I looked at them with fresh eyes. I used my camera to study my subjects, understand the repeating shapes, absorb the color, and reflect it into my work. Life informs art informs life. My style evolved as I learned and grew.

And then, I got the call from within to write, prompted by the experiences I’d had and the lessons I’d learned. I started with a memoir because, they say, ‘write what you know.’ Then, my partner was laid off from her corporate job, forcing a move away from Michigan and my home and garden of thirty years. We relocated to a remote town on the Oregon coast, and the move generated even more words, as everything was new again. The idea for a novel about a woman at a transition point in her life came to me. I took dictation as the story flowed out. I finished my memoir, completed my novel, and wrote poetry, each a different way to express the lessons I’d learned along my broken road.

Visual art. Written art. They come from the same creative well of inspiration. It is both a journey and an escape. Every morning I awake with anticipation as I can’t wait to discover what will come next.