Places in my past often lie behind my paintings.

When I was a young woman I lived in the Canadian Rockies. My partner and I had developed a liking for ice climbing. On one adventure we decided a particular frozen chute required maximum daylight to ascend. We drove out the afternoon before and set up camp on Spray Lake, frozen of course. All of this required some extra precautions, like draining the oil from the Volkswagen bug so we could get her to start again. Fun did not include being stranded miles from nowhere. We settled in to our tent with stacks of down and polyester to insulate us ( and the motor oil ) from 45 degrees below zero. It was actually a pretty comfortable night. Considering.

I was awakened by some terrifying cracking noise. Zip…peering into the bleary pre-dawn I could just make out two local boys scooting their ice fishing house across the lake. One spotted me - well how could he not, the tent being red and all. “Hello the tent” he called. Cheerful, cheerful? in 45 below? “Coffee?” he raised a monster thermos. Say no more, even though I was not a coffee drinker I was sliding into my parka. “Donuts?” His partner came into view with a massive bag.

What a gorgeous morning.

The local boys had it right they were out for pleasure. I was out testing myself.

We did climb our chute, refilled the beetle’s oil and got home without incident.

Ease of movement in one’s environment, these guys had it. I was inspired.

Sometimes life does shift gears just a bit over coffee and donuts.