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In the high country, beyond the noise, there is a quiet refuge just waiting to reveal itself.
Quiet Sorrow
Quiet Vigil
Red Tail Hawk — keeping watch.
Quiet Presence
Mule Deer — the wild at peace.
Quiet Knowing
Quiet Knowing
Red Fox — the wild has noticed you.
A Word from the Artist
The cub's mother had been killed. He had been caught in a trap, and his back leg was past saving. Most officers would have shot him. Not my dad.
There were no tranquilizer guns then. It took two men and two ropes to hold the cub still long enough to free him from the trap. My father drove more than a hundred miles, at his own expense, to an associate with the medical skill to amputate the leg.
The cub lived. That memory lives in Quiet Sorrow.
The mountain is still there. The door is open.
This Wasatch page is one of many quiet doorways into Spirit Lake Art — my body of work born of ink and memory.
If something here moved you, the rest is waiting.
Stay Connected
From time to time, I share quiet notes from my studio — new paintings, reflections from Spirit Lake, and updates of ongoing projects. Join below, or email me at Terry.SpiritLakeArt@gmail.com.
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