Dec 27, 2019

Enya Says

Enya Says
Winter, 2019

This correspondence has been overdue. I’m sure you’ve noted my literary absence and missed me. Dang, I’ve missed you as well and I hope this ushers some light into your lives. Possibly because 2019 is about to say “adios” I feel compelled to bring you up to speed on life around this Ranch. This writing is not to be confused with that thing called “ Christmas letter” mailed out to the masses by humans you no longer claim. To the contrary, those of you who read this are members of a highly select and discriminating clan. Doesn’t that make you feel special? Pressing on. We Bosties have a predisposition to summarize, condense, and communicate. After all, it’s all about communication, eh? It’s in this spirit that I share with you.

Although my eyesight and hearing are waning, I know radiance when it’s in front of me. Annie is such. Sometimes as I drift off for my mid-morning nap she comes to me. Floating along, riding the day’s current and holding a fine platter in her hands. On the plater is a biscuit just for me. I thank her, crunch a few nibbles and waft away into my slumber. I’ve observed her doing the same for Clark but he’s not dreaming and his platter contains cookies. Sometimes I covet his platter. 

Clark’s hearing and eyesight are much like mine. He’s OK as long as it’s just the three of us but I’ve noted a hint of verbal repetition when the peeps invade the Ranch. It causes him to be less chatty which I appreciate as I’ve heard it all before. To his credit, he provides me solace and runs interference when the small children come for a visit. Another observation: we canines develop much more rapidly than you neurotypicals. It’s impossible for me to convey to you how wee people disrupt my personal tranquility. Loss of naps, heightened alertness, penetrating squeals, my water dish moved to unfamiliar territory and the litany goes on. However, there is a little something redemptive about their visits. For two days after they go home, I have unlimited access to food particles left behind in their wake. Nonetheless, I shed more fur in one day than I do in a month. 

Looking ahead, I am euphoric that Annie and Clark have decided to return to Tubac this winter. These two manage to get a few things right from time to time. You all know how I feel about Tubac. That spot is just about more than one Boostie can manage. You know, there’s more proximity to the Equator in Tubac. I’ve only heard this and not fully sure what it means. I DO know that the desert sun is good for these aging bones. Of course there’s my old nemesis the lizard as well. Personally, I’ve never caught one but I’d know what to do if I did. In Tubac, the floor tiles are warm and I can nap anywhere. The leftovers are hopped up and the few slurps of mango margarita I’ve stolen are divine. We load up the truck in early February and return to the Ranch in April. I’m doing an on-line course in beginner Spanish in case the “right” Senor Bostie makes an appearance. Be on the lookout for my next 2020. Happy New Year to all!  Remember to be a nice person. 

Happy trails.

Oct 29, 2019

The Mystery of Friendship

Soft Furry Body
Allowing me to be Fully Myself
I feel your heartbeat
It matches my Own...
Human Perceptions... Expectations
Often Blocking Passage to Authenticity.
Not so through Creature's Eyes
Harmony Resounds
Living Souls Who Match My Own. 
Mystery of Friendship - Annie

Oct 26, 2019

Seymour's Attitude


Seymour was a surly fellow
who could never quite get past being a part of the whole.
The village constructed the notion
that his wings were
and this compromised his attitude...
Perhaps it was so.
He took to opening bottle caps on the pop
at the local grocer, drinking small amounts, replacing the lid,
and sneaking out.
He hoped someday to get caught. 

Aug 7, 2019

Art City in Hamilton Montana

Annie Allen, visual artist, featured at Art City. 
Culture Crawl Opening on Friday August 9 5-8 pm. The show may be seen thru September 28.

“Essential Truths: Conversations with Mother Earth"
Artist Statement:
I am forever engaged, expressively with the basic components of life. These include air, water, fire and earth. The components generate conversations and creativity through paint and tools to apply the paint. The conversation is open and illusive, always intriguing and never ending.
Annie Allen

Jul 16, 2019

My Story...

My story... has begun to disappear...
Our stories are important for existence...
Now I begin to recapture, as the lunar eclipse grows near.
My story is one of creative endeavors, expressions of concern for life on the planet... never one of black and white but all that exists in-between.
I have never been able to pinpoint my creative style: my use of shapes, form, colors and line. I just create from my soul... sometimes picking up tidbits of floating ideas, thoughts and energy that appears within my grasp.

My story is in a name given at birth and yet that name was not the one chosen for me to follow. At birth I entered this life as Annette Diane Daniel. I became through word of mouth (instantaneously) Annie Daniel. Annie... everything in a name. Annie meaning Grace. Grace, blessings, seeker of Light. Seeker of story. Daniel... a clan name, a name of honor and strength. With the Daniel name came the love of animals, of land, of earth's treasures (air, water, fire and minerals), of angels that surround us.

My story was always a search, a longing to fit in: of which I discovered (often too late) fitting in was not the key... discovering my soul was key. Given but one mind, one body and one soul I wasted much time trying to become instead of breathing with what is.
Now treasuring life, others...treasuring my gifts by helping others. I still search for how to use these gifts. Marketing the gifts has left a huge hole within my soul. Our pain upon this earth is based upon pleasing the mores of our given communities. I have never quite risen to fit these norms. I would like to use these gifts of mine to sooth others pain, to recapture Mother Earth as I sense her and leave these jewels scattered to the wind and love of others.
This leaves my story unfunded... how does one survive.
Down the rabbit hole I plunge once again. Try as I must to fit in with my odd ways.
Doors have opened...doors have closed. Intuition has played it's part, still I seek.

My story led me to family, two children, many grandchildren, friends, acquaintances, my my husband.

My story takes on a new name, a new chapter.... do I let go of the old one? Changing name which is never easy. Watching the movie "Outlander" as the character Claire takes on 2 husbands in different time warps, 2 names or the combination therefor... never losing her identity but trying to make sense of her destiny and searching for her own soul along the way. Perhaps the largest cancer of our world is our discontent with life in stead of the relish for what is.

 I felt a disconnect with blood family... loving them, but not understanding their rhythms or thoughts which seem so very far removed from my own. Now at 61, I realize the differences are not as important as the gratitude for being brought into the world... grateful for the start as Annie.

My story, as important as everyone's story...
scattered like dust in the wind for lack of better cliche'

"At times it seems to me that I am living my life backwards, and that at the 
approach of old age my real youth will begin. My soul was born covered 
with wrinkles — wrinkles my ancestors and parents most assiduously put 
there and that I had the greatest trouble removing."

– AndrĂ© Gide

May 26, 2019

Define Work

Here's a provocative concept... define work. Work as listed in the Merriam-Webster dictionary is to perform work or fulfill duties regularly for wages or salary,  to perform or carry through a task requiring sustained effort or continuous repeated operations, and/or to exert oneself physically or mentally especially in sustained effort for a purpose or under compulsion or necessity. Or In physics, work is defined as a force causing the movement — or displacement — of an object.  

Most of my life I have enjoyed and pursued work for the feelings of accomplishment and satisfaction that I received from such tasks. I was born with an innate ability to create, to express myself through art, and to teach others this process as well. I consider all of this work... I love work
Now comes the tricky part. While creating, my mind, body and soul are working simultaneously to the best of my ability, in order to express an idea, a thought, a concept and/or  hypothesis. This flows out in the form of a painting, a drawing, a sculpture, a lesson plan and etc. 
The beauty of being born on the planet Earth is that we all carry our own unique take or vision on existing life.  This vision comes forth through creative work...if pursued. There lies the key... not everyone pursues creativity through tasks which might include writing, painting, speaking, dancing, and other endeavors. Creative tasks could include the building of objects, cooking of meals, and sharing of stories. Creative tasks are genuine work
Some believe that work has to hurt, that work is back-breaking, that work is the ultimate sacrifice in order to feed your family. But it is my firm belief that all work can become a creative endeavor if you enjoy it, if you allow your own unique personality to develop through work and thus allow positive, creative sparks to grow. 
Now if we apply this concept to art, questions begin to appear. Define work... Art? Is art considered work? "Art, you say, is not necessary" (I would beg to differ), "Art is just a hobby that should be given away" (I would beg to differ), "Art is something that children enjoy while they are young" (I not only beg to differ but refuse to grow up), and etc. 
Art exists in all forms around us inspiring us to grow in our creative process. Art stimulates the brain and boosts invention, morale and imagination which leads to some pretty productive work on our planet. 
Art is Work.....

Apr 29, 2019

Humble Tasks of Generous Nature

Feed the Birds
Water the Earth
Smile upon a Stranger
Reach out...
Lay Blessings at the feet of Angels
Hang your wash and feel the Air
Step outside and Breathe
Wish upon a Star with a Child
Whisper Stories and tell harmless untruths
Be the stream ....Flow
Love Strong, Love Spontaneously
Imagine the Possibilities

As we lose some of our treasured souls upon the Earth may we forever honor them through our words, our actions, our art form & our love. 
To Jean Price, Meinrad Craighead, Lola Arvidson, Darla Ordway, & the Peets. 

To many others whose passing has touched and forever changed us. 
Reach out and ask for a blessing to be sent through art anytime. Call my number 406-431-9479 or email This a gift with donations accepted. All art is created on antique handkerchiefs. 

Apr 3, 2019

Mother Earth

...and the rocks feigned indifference as Mother Earth fed our roots on a daily basis.

Ah, it's taken awhile to recover from a harsh season. This season was not Mother Earth's doing, this season was a bouncing reverberation from shifting times on our planet. 
The rocks provided footing and the grateful need for our trees, our air, our water, our living creatures to sustain us was immense. 
Thank goodness for the arts. They have kept me afloat in order to help others and myself. 
We are beginning to see light at the end of the tunnel called life. Tubac called us to her arms for another season. We answered yes. 
Trace, my soulmate, is recovering from 2 surgeries and his step is lighter all the time. Meanwhile I'm getting my footing back through art. It was difficult and one step at a time was required. I had lost my footing. Two paintings came out screaming. They are below... but walking upon the earth's surface has always providing deep healing and once again Mother Earth fed me. 

Enya Says!

Enya Says

At last, I have returned to the high desert and Tubac! I was listening with one ear open a few days ago as Annie and Clark were sharing idle prater. Annie said, “I think this is our 7th year of coming to Tubac.” As it must be with humans my first thought was, “has it been this long?”

Ah, but I get ahead of myself with this 7th journey. Deep in the bowels of this past winter I began to doubt that on this day in Tubac I would hike the Santa Cruz trail, let hummingbirds twitter about me, or inhale the awful scent of those Longhorn cattle lounging on the edge of the Golf Course. In Bostie speak, I think Clark was a mess for awhile. Either that or he got lazy in the middle of the snow and cold and let Annie do all the work around our Ranch. One night as I sprawled out in front of the fireplace after dinner with the outside temperature plummeting, I overheard Annie telling Clark “this will pass.” Being a Bostie, I was certain she wasn’t talking about kidney stones. Turns out, she wasn’t. But enough chatter about these past Montana Wintertime beasts. 

We are prospering here in the sun, soft soil, and magic of Tubac. The people food Annie slips to me is delicious, albeit spicy but I like it. Maybe I have some Chawawa back there in my boneyard? I’ve met some fellow chaps out on our hikes. Most of my new friends are friendly and linger to sniff.  However, out on the River Trail the other day I was forced to give some under-civilized mutt my best guttural growl and a nip on his ass. I detest meeting rude (read crude) brethren. I must have got him good as he yelped. His human muttered something, Annie’s nostrils flared and we bid those cretans adios. Just when you think you know a thing or two about your kind, you get drawn up short. My best advice when your tail is out on the trail is “watch and listen.”

I’m catching up on some napping today. Clark is keeping me company as Annie is taking an art class at the Tubac Center for the Arts. Hey, I know what I’m talking about. I’ve walked by this place a hundred times. I’ve learned that tomorrow Annie is bringing some kind of pig to our apartment for painting. I think this piggy is called a “Javalena.” From what I’ve heard only a small number of artists are getting a piggy to take home and paint. I’m so proud of her. 

I’ve been keeping my eye on Clark and I have to tell you he’s been working hard on his tan. That guy takes his sunning seriously, something about “showing those opaque gringos back in Montana” when we get home in April. As for me, I do as the locals and siesta in the shade during the heat of the day. We Bostie’s know a thing or two. 

Well kids, I anticipate Clark is preparing me a mid-day snack so I need to show some interest.
I am doing well in this Sonoran Desert. Sometimes I think of you. 

Bow Wow,


Feb 3, 2019

Alas Fear Set in...

"Clementine had yet to find her way in the dark. 
She kept reverting to light tactics which produced disconcerting notes of frustration...
Alas Fear Set in.." -Annie

After 2 weeks of medical circumstances with my partner. Two surgeries, Fourteen days of breathing in medical woes & worries... I came to Clementine, an alias of one's self. 
Walking the line between light and dark, searching for human touch and compassion & knowing that so many suffer from illness and isolation in our world. I am rereading Diane Ackerman's book "A Natural History of the Senses". Human touch is elusive for so many. There are mores and taboos that are taught as we grow up. When blessed with loving parents we are held close and tucked in with soft hands of wonder. As we grow up the touch often dissipates... somewhere along the line might even disappear. Perhaps touch becomes painful... I know it can lead to emotions that burst through the heart in the form of tears..difficult for many. Touch heals. So, alas, the medical field offers touch in certain ways that stimulate love and healing for many. No one wants to be alone or untouched. 
I search for ways to touch others. 
Through art, touch is granted access. 
This is my means of making a small difference in lives around me. 
I say. 
Of this world and yet my wings often allow me outside this world checking in now and again. Wings, you say. Wings have allowed Annie's World to exist if in fact survive. They often rise me above the dark void that threatens to engulf my spirit at times.