“The land has been made to blossom as the rose; like an oasis in the desert . . . nodding plumes of beauty fill the air with sweet perfume,” wrote the editor of the Pinedale Roundup in 1912. He was reporting on the very first Clark’s Flower Day, a celebration of springtime hosted by Bert and Anna May Clark. The Clarks established a Ranch on Duck Creek in Cora, Wyoming in 1902, later to be known as the CL Bar Ranch.

For nineteen years, the Clarks would invite the community to come spend the day on their ranch among the expansive gardens. Guests would enjoy picnicking, picking pails of strawberries, and eating ice cream. Menfolk looked at the tractors, canoes, and sailboats.

Historian Judi Myers writes, “The entrance to the ranch house was marked with rustic gates of curious design and craftsmanship. The pole fence was entwined with elk antlers. A large lawn with pebble lined paths, abundant foliage and a sundial greeted visitors to the annual Flower Days. In 1914 eighty people attended. By 1920 over 200 people came from as far away as Rock Springs, Lander and Kemmerer.”

Gone are the extensive gardens, but the wild things still grow on this land. Bison have replaced sheep, but the skies and hospitality of this land remains.

In my career, I’ve been very fortunate to have been inspired by some very special places in the West. In August of 2023 I experienced a very special ranch in Cora, Wyoming near Pinedale.

In 1902, Robert and Anna May Clark came to Wyoming and homesteaded on the head of Little Duck Creek. They built a two-room log cabin, dug a well, and raised two boys. They called their ranch the Rustic Lodge Ranch, and registered the CL Bar brand. They planted hay, and raised cattle and horses. Eventually, the land sustained a herd of 2500 sheep.

One of their sons, Bert, brought in Dr. Edward Lauzer as a partner in 1930. Lauzer eventually became the sole owner, and married the first registered nurse in Wyoming, Amy Geis Miller. It is rumored that the small cabin on the property was used by Butch Cassidy for medical attention from time to time.

In 1946, the ranch began hosting “dudes”, and cabins were built. Bison were introduced, and a monkey and two African lions entertained guests. Dr. Lauzer also started the new tradition of hosting an annual community BBQ and rodeo.

After Lauzer’s death in 1960, Thomas Lauzer Kitchen took over the ranch and raised the same sheep that Dr. Lauzer had bred. Eventually ranching ended, and the land was divided and sold in forty-acre parcels.

Enter Mr. Erivan Karl Haub and his family. Haub, a German businessman, had fallen in love with the American West. Haub bought up the parcels and put the 7906-acre ranch back together. The Haub family has continued some the ranch’s traditions, like hosting rodeos and raising bison.

The magic of this special land is hard to ignore. Wide Wyoming skies reach down to bison grazing by a rippling, sparkling creek. Wildflowers dance in the breeze along a blue reservoir. If you close your eyes, you can almost imagine the hard-working folks who made this place a productive home.

The day I gathered these blooms was spent enjoying the simple bounties of summer in Wyoming; a little fishing, a little exploring, and a meal shared with a table of people I will never forget. As the sun’s last rays illuminated the Wind River Range, a glass was raised; to all westerners at heart, who seek this land and appreciate its beauty. Cheers!

30 in. x 60 in., 2026

15,200

Inspired by a morning hike up Cedar Creek near Start Valley, Wyoming.

I have often described my botanical subjects as actors on a stage. In that spirit, I would describe the Ajo Lily as a tall, graceful fashion model, who likes long walks in the sand and stormy weather. But she is also elusive; difficult to cultivate, and goes missing for years at a time. Named “Ajo” by Spanish explorers because of the flower bulb’s garlicy taste, these flower stalks can stand up to 6 feet in height in a good year.

I found myself lost in the colorful whites in these lilies, but I was equally enamored with the wavy sculptural leaves that grow so long at times, that they flop over make beautiful spirographs when the wind blows them over the sand.

Yes, Hesperocallis Undulata is a beautiful woman named Lily, walking down the runway in an iridescent white blouse and a ruffled green skirt. She is a tall drink of water, and a welcome sight in a dry arid land.

With gratitude to photographer, Paul Gill, who hunts Arizona flowers far and wide.

Sometimes things pop up early, as was the case in 2026. Rain came early in buckets, and then a warm spell forced plants and flowers out of the soil before their usual time. So I keep my eyes peeled even in January and February.

This scene, captured in the Catalina Foothills early in February, is a prime example.
Little pops of pink and white dappled the slopes as we made our way to the Romero pools and waterfall. All was well, until we heard the unnerving sound (like a woman screaming) of a mountain lion coming from the ridgeline across from us. We glassed the slope just as several deer were scattering. So we changed course and enjoyed the elevation where these flowers were blooming.

Anemones are tubers and members of the buttercup family. These, as well as the other smaller flowers on the foothills, are among my favorites.

What’s Up? Buttercups.

Although Arizona is a relatively new state (born in 1912), we have our share of old things; mining towns, military forts, and old routes from here to there. I have a habit of searching satellite maps and out the car window for signs of old roads. Since I moved here in 1989, so many routes have changed. Arizona State Route 87 to Payson, for example, is now a divided highway, and no longer dips into the little town of Sunflower. The old US 60 to Superior used to wind right by Boyce Thompson, but no longer.
 
Every once in a while, I like to include a little bit of the manmade in my work, because it tells a part of Arizona history that I’m interested in. This section of old US 60 is near a segment of the Arizona trail, winding around the slopes of an old volcano called Picketpost Mountain. I found it when I wandered off the trail one spiring afternoon. The bridge spans a section of a small tributary to Queen Creek, and because of seasonal waterflow, it is the ideal environment for little wildflowers. These tiny little beauties are creamcups and yellowthroat gilias, which are smaller than a fingernail. I thought the juxtaposition was interesting; little with big, natural with manmade, and a window to the landscape of Arnett Canyon beyond.
 
New roads may be faster, but the old way will always be more interesting to me.

$15,200 Framed

It’s no secret that I love wandering at the base of the Mazatzal Mountains in the late afternoon. About an hour from my home, down a bumpy dirt road, awaits a land rich with history and diverse plant species. It’s in the sweet spot between desert cholla and ponderosa pines at about 4000 feet. As I write this, it’s springtime, and soon I’ll be headed back to this place to check on the land and my plant friends.

The agave get all the attention in this area, but there’s a nice crop of yucca that demands closer examination. The flower pendants gobble up the late day light, and the curly leaf fibers swirl in shades of blue. This plant has so many uses; you can make shampoo, roast the fruit for food, make rope or baskets from the fibers, and create beautiful dye.

Once again, the land seems to give us everything we need, and on top of that we get beauty.
As a painter who loves color, I’m grateful for inspiration like this, and it makes me want to be a better steward of the land. I hope it does the same for you.

If you love Arizona, you’ve no doubt heard the legend of the lost gold in the Superstition Mountains.

In the 1840s, the Peralta family developed a gold mine in the mountains, and on their last expedition back to northern Mexico in 1848 were ambushed by Apaches. All were killed but one.

Since then, there has been an ongoing quest to locate the mine. In the 1870s, Jacob Waltz, “the Dutchman” (he was German) was supposedly aided by a Peralta descendant and found the mine. Waltz and his partner, Jacob Weiser, worked the mine and allegedly hid one or more caches of gold in the Superstitions.

Adventure-seekers have been looking for the treasure ever since. Some have been victims of foul play and death. Adding to the lore is the idea that Weaver’s Needle, the geological remains of a volcanic eruption, makes a shadow that points to the location on certain days of the year.

For me, the true treasure of this rugged area is found while hiking and exploring. In certain years, with the appropriate rain, slopes are covered with blue dicks, owl’s clover and mariposa lilies*.

In this composition I positioned a leaf of the lily so it points to the base of Weaver’s Needle, to pay homage to the legend.

Gold or not, this region is special. It’s a peaceful place, where lilies wave in the breeze, cerulean skies yield to golden sunsets, and indigo blankets the nights.

*Not to be confused with poppies, Mariposa lilies (Calochortus) are indeed lilies! The word Calochortus is derived from Greek and means “beautiful grass”.

There are some pretty special places in the higher elevations of Arizona. When the valley’s flowers fade in the summer heat, there are still treasures to find on the hilltops. One of my favorite destinations is near the farming and mining town of Safford, Arizona. The Pinaleño Mountains rise quickly here, to Mount Graham at 10,696 feet. Here, and only here, will you find a small population of endangered Mount Graham red squirrels.*

If you’re not afraid of twists, turns, and dirt ruts, you can travel the Swift Trail (thirty-three miles from the 191) through cottonwoods, sycamores, and ponderosa pines. There are stops along the way; amazing views of historic Fort Grant, and neighboring sky islands like the Galiuros and the Winchesters.

Somewere before the road ends, at a beautiful sparkling blue reservoir, there is a meadow.
On this July afternoon, it was teeming with life. Verbena, coneflowers and wallflowers were swaying in the breeze as pollinators performed touch-and-gos. We lingered here as long as we could, happy for the opportunity to observe this important work, and grateful for the inspiration. The pipevine butterfly landed in front of me, and I knew I would paint him and his flower. The moment exists only in my mind, and only here.

*Since 2014, the conservation center at the Phoenix Zoo has been working hard on developing a pilot breeding program in the hope of producing animals for release in the wild. Numbers of the Mt. Graham red squirrels were as low as thirty-five in 2017, after the Frye fire destroyed 48,000 acres of habitat in the mountain. Learn more at Phoenix Zoo

Inspiration

If by chance you plan to roam,
Pack a map, pack a comb.
Pack a lunch, pack a chair,
So you can sit,
When you are there.

Crack a beer, crack a smile,
Wander, linger, stay a while.
Talk to God, talk to friends
Stay until the bright day ends.

Thank you God for days like this,
Dusty roads, botanical bliss,
Enough gas and a true blue Jeep,
This will be the company I keep.

Each desert blooming season follows an order: hedgehog cactus, prickly pear, cholla, saguaro, with various wildflowers blooming throughout. I always look forward to the jewel colors of cholla blooms that are best seen in late afternoon light. While other cactus blooms are closing up for the day, buckhorn cholla seem to lean in and embrace every last minute of Sonoran sun.

In late April, I roll my Jeep down dusty dirt roads into the alluvial fans of the Superstations looking for the glow. Cactus like these can have good years and not-so-good years. If I’m lucky, I’ll spot a patch of happy chollas, pull off the road, and hike a bit around them, being careful not to puncture myself or step on a rattler.

These are the moments I love with all my heart. The quail song, coyote howl, and cholla glow in the last light of day.

Oil on canvas 60in. x 60in.

2005     Offered from Dyana Hesson’s  personal Collection

28,000

The circle, having no beginning and no end, is my favorite shape, both aesthetically and symbolically. A wedding ring, the fellowship of friends, and eternity can all be expressed with a circle. I have manipulated all sorts of flowers, cacti, and succulents into beautiful circles for this series.

Always important in my work is the significance of relationships. When you examine a bouquet of flowers, even if they are all the same type and color, there are distinct differences within the bunch. By themselves they are beautiful, but together they make an impact. The interplay of light and shadows, the repetition of shapes — simply put, the way each part relates to the next — makes a unified composition. It is the same with people, whether in a family or among friends. It is when we are together, offering our unique gifts and experiences to each other, that we are beautiful. So, whether they are circles of the same flowers or a variety of flowers or colors, I hope the viewer will delight in the beauty of the arrangement. My prayer is that they will consider and enjoy the beauty that is right before them, both on the canvas and in their lives.

$19,500.00 Framed
 
There is a hilltop near Payson, Arizona that I love. It sits at about 4500 feet, with views of the East Verde River on one side, and the Mazatzal mountain range on other. This hilltop is a botanist’s dream, with a diverse array of cactus and native Arizona plants. There is evidence that an ancient civilization spent time building, gathering and communing in this place too. I think of their time here often when I visit. I wonder what gossip filled the air as the women sat at their grinding stations, looking up occasionally at the mountains in front of them.
 
In the wild, shelter is important. For the hiker, it’s the first thing to consider when stranded in the open; before water, before food, protection from the elements is vital. Plants benefit from shelter, too. Often in the Southwest, certain plants thrive only in the sheltered cover of another plant, or in the shade of a rock. In terrain with diverse geologic formations, life thrives.
 
I am grateful for the merry band of plant lovers who have taught me so much upon this hill.

And I am grateful for the things places like this teach me about my creator, who is my ultimate refuge and shelter under which I can thrive.