Antique linens, chenille yarn, packing papers, cotton clothes line.

I moved to the West in 2003, to the Teton Mountains, and live amongst soaring peaks, spectacular canyons, wind, and weather. Marauding storms roll into the valleys in a fury leaving behind the boisterous survivors–clouds. Clouds that nestle down into the canyons waiting for the next onslaught; clouds tracing, in wispy abandon, the outline of the foothills; clouds that bunch and cluster and laugh at the commotion.