If you could paint artwork insured for more than 700 million dollars, wouldn't your head swell a little? And wouldn't you expect to live in a really nice house—not just work for the man who lives in the really nice house?
     When Leonardo da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa he couldn't have realized it would become such a famous painting.
     Prior to 1911, it was housed in the Louvre. Then the painting went on loan, only not in the usual way. An art thief took it home and stored it in the base of a trunk for approximately two years. He served seven months in prison for taking the portrait, and probably increased the value of the smiling lady due to the additional publicity of her theft and return.
     He definitely increased her security detail.
     I imagine the ghost of Leonardo walking into the Louvre with all the other tourists, and having a smug smile on his face as he looks at his work. And then probably shrugging off the value, shaking his head, and going to look at the other artists' work.
  
    

Two little eyes peered up at me from the wood at my feet. A tree frog stared at me, hiding. He had nothing to be afraid of from me, except my camera.

Tree frogs will always be welcome to me because they signal to me that the ecology in my area is good, and I like the sounds they make.

But not all animals, reptiles and insects are so welcome. When I see a wasp, I generally avoid it. But this one seemed to be batting its head against the stem. I've had those days too.

And sometimes, no matter how creepy you are, nothing tastes good.

Even though the hummingbird moth isn't on my favorites list, I was glad he stopped long enough to let me see him. He was hidden well in the grasses, but the grass also helped hide me so I could sneak closer.

Claude Monet is perhaps the most famous artist known for repeatedly painting the same subject over and over. He loved painting water lilies. The garden was a passion for him, much the same as art, so he blended the two, almost like he blended the colors in his work.

In the last twenty years of his life he focused mainly on painting the pond he'd created on his own property, and the lilies he'd transplanted there. Often gardeners worked for him, maintaining the picturesque setting.

Perhaps he didn't paint the lilies and the garden as much as he created a living painting around him.

Perhaps I'd like to do the same—only without the expense of a gardener—on the trails behind my house.

...with the wild flowers, including the blackeyed susan.

Writer's find motivation where ever they can. Sometimes the quotes of other writers inspire us to finish a book.

Today, the lovely and lively Alicia Dean is letting me be a guest on her blog. I'll be sharing ten favorite writing quotes... Well, maybe just nine as I couldn't think of a tenth one. Or maybe nine and a half.

Please join us, and feel free to comment and ask questions about writing. Here's the link: https://aliciadean.com/alicias-blog/

Black eyed peas are a traditional New Year's meal in the USA for luck. This traditional meal could have originated in the 1700's but history isn't clear.

In 1928, one woman called her newborn a "black-eyed pea" baby because that was the main food she had to eat during the pregnancy. The peas are high in folate and that can also held prevent some birth defects, such as spina bifida. In spina bifida, a baby's spinal cord doesn't develop properly. So, peas really could bring good luck. The baby in question had a mark on her back, and it was later discovered that people with this mark are carriers of the gene for spina bifida.

Another tradition for January first is to make New Year's resolutions which are more of a reminder of what we feel we should do to be a better person.

I said to someone that a new year gives us a chance to start over. He looked at me and said softly, "Any day of the year is a good day to start over, or change your lifestyle, or make a commitment or whatever you need to do."

So if your New Year's resolutions fall by the wayside, don't be discouraged. Start again.

I've heard that three priorities are the most a person can successfully manage. When you think of  the first priority as being family, the second being feeding the family and keeping a roof over their head—then that only leaves one extra—assuming sleep isn't on the list.

Perhaps that's why my latest book meant so much to me on a personal level. It's a story about a man who changes his priorities—or at least, that's how I see it. (Readers, please let me know what you think by leaving a review on the Harlequin.com website.)

Best wishes, and I hope all your New Year's Resolutions are a success.

Bobcats have been living in Oklahoma far longer than I have. Once when five abandoned chickens decided to make their home with me—they began to disappear, one at a time. I had no idea what was happening to them. Then, a bobcat was spotted in my yard, trotting away with the last chicken in his mouth.

After moving and getting a sturdy pen and reinforcing it several times to make it critter proof at night, I could have chickens again. I let them out during the day, and watched them. Everything was fine for about a year, and then the chickens started to disappear again. It just seemed like they would be in the yard one minute, and vanish without a trace. I locked them in the pen, and along with their grain, took grass clippings and hay to them. I had to keep them secure to to keep them alive.

I don't know what was taking the hens, but I suspect the bobcats.

The bobcats are reclusive and tend to stay away from the house, but they do occasionally get close. I have cameras on the trails around my house, and  I know the cats are comfortable here.

Hopefully, the bobcats and I will continue to get along and both keep a respectful distance from each other.

An Oklahoma outlaw, Bill Doolin, from the days of the wild west, had been married within a few miles of where I live. He'd also been indicted for murder after a gunfight in September of 1893 which wounded or killed six marshals. He escaped before his trial, and was later caught and killed on his father-in-law's property.

The lawman, Heck Thomas, who led the posse lived to an old age and died of natural causes—which was a bit of a surprise to me. After all, he'd spent most of his life chasing criminals, particularly the ones with the biggest rewards on their head.

Outlaws aren't always easy to find, but I didn't have a lot of trouble locating them. Signs pointed the way to the section of the cemetery where they are buried—almost alone. It's said that other people didn't wish to be buried near them.

One of Bert Casey's first murders reportedly occurred when he decided to rob a man he'd seen with a large sum of money. He waited in the dark until he saw a man riding along the path, shot him, and discovered he'd accidently killed someone he knew. He's said to have killed a young boy whose family didn't raise their hands fast enough as he robbed them.

Later, two men he knew were pardoned for their crimes and given deputy status to capture him, and that resulted in his death. 

Charlie Pearce. A desperado who didn't deserve a marker with the spelling corrected.

Many of the people who live in my area have a trail camera to see what kind of wild game they'll spot. Normally, it's more unusual get a photo of a whitetail buck, but this one got curious.

When two cameras were set up on opposite sides of the trail and the deer were active, I was fascinated to look at the camera and see an out-of-focus heated interchange between two of the animals—right in front of the second camera.

But after looking at the second camera's card, I discovered the batteries were dead. No photos. Maybe next year...

The first time I saw Lily after she lost her leg, I almost became ill. It wasn't a pretty sight to see a painfully thin deer with a scrape down her side and a fresh wound where a leg was missing. I was fairly certain it had happened in the last week and expected her to die. Putting her out of her misery seemed like the thing to do, but it was out of the question because she was so elusive.

And she had a fawn with her.

Then, she began to gain weight, in part due to the grain under the bird feeder.
She survived and manages to get around walking with a gait similar to  something out of a Star Wars movie, or a slinky.

Since the accident, she's survived two winters and birthed two more fawn. And she appears to be the best of mothers. 

Nature is harsh, but it has an amazing beauty and resilience.  

During the writing of Redeeming the Roguish Rake, I was writing a scene in which Rebecca recites this poem to Foxworthy on a starry night. She said her mother had always recited it to her. But, when I was younger, I wanted poetry books for poems, and romance novels were to be poem-less. So I pressed delete.

Copyright 2018 Liz Tyner