This is me.
Ever since I can remember I’ve been a boots and jeans kind of girl. I pretty much grew up horseback, and while I no longer inhabit that world, my dreams are still full of horses. (Dreams meaning both the what-would-you-do-if-you-won-the-lottery kind, and the nocturnal kind.)
Even though it’s been 15 years since I had a horse of my own, I can still close my eyes and smell the barn smells, and hear the soft horse noises of a quiet shed row.
My brother and Dad still make their living working with cattle and my sister works with an organization teaching school children about agriculture of all kinds, and where food comes from.
So while I’m only on the fringes of cowboy culture now, I grew up immersed in it. I remember loving the art on the cover of Dad’s Western Horseman magazine when it came in the mail. Although, I didn’t even realize it was art, really, because it was so familiar.
So I imagine that’s why my angels wear cowboy hats and wild rags.
(I’m excited to begin this mixed media angel painting course when I get back from my stay at the ranch with my parents in a couple of weeks.)
(p.s. It wasn’t cool for women to wear cowboy hats in my corner of cowboy-dom, but I love the look of it. And I believe in the Biblical definition of angels, but I’m going to have fun and just go with it when it comes to the art course.)