I'd been mulling over a painting since 2015, but it just never felt right, however "right" might be defined. And I didn’t honestly know; it was just a feeling or, more accurately, the lack thereof. Residing for almost a decade on my drawing board — the place in my studio where ideas brew— the scene details one of many memorable experiences at Ranchlands' Chico Basin Ranch. In it, I'm sitting alongside a few other guests and supplies in a flatbed pulled by Raven — and Ruby outside of the picture frame — off to an early summer morning cattle branding.

The impulse to paint it finally materialized in a flood of gratitude and sadness: gratitude for the people, the magical wild space, and the privilege of being even a brief part of Chico's story; heavy-hearted because this beloved place that boundlessly gave to so many is now beyond reach. Ranchlands, the family-owned and -operated ranching business with whom I've had a relationship for over 20 remarkable years, will no longer manage this land.

Some of my most cherished memories were wandering through, sketching, and absorbing the vast Chico Basin landscape in solitude. I've seen a near-endless array of treasures: a colorful beetle puttering across the sand, a remnant of bone hinting at the life it once held, a snake snatching up a mouse for lunch, a fossilized seashell measuring the very march of time, the fragrance of damp earth on a dewy morning, the river-like melody of dry grasses waving in a hot summer breeze, a winter day wafting a cold tingle through my lungs — this, perhaps, most of all, the air of each season diffusing through my body, clearing my senses.

Here, the prairie stretches endlessly to the east and north. Canyons appear like mirages to the south; mountain ranges to the west cradle the spanning grasslands before merging with the sky. And what a sky it is! On a cloudless day, its colors gradate from pale yellow on the horizon to a clear sheet of turquoise glass. With uncanny speed, a dark, turbulent storm can engulf everything around you, pelting rain proclaiming nature's supreme reign. The sunsets resemble illustrations from a child's book, their kaleidoscopic colors coaxing dreamy impressions into my mind. The gift of an unpolluted night offers a mesmerizing dusting of sparkling stars. Simple, and yet intricately complex, the subtle beauty grows on you, an old friend revealing her truths to you slowly, carefully, gently. 

The beloved residents of this place have their corner in my mind's eye as well — critters, like the kitten that glued itself to me, crawling into my car in a rare instance where life in suburbia may actually have been more suitable. Years later, I still regret not asking more about her, not knowing if I might have taken her home with me. A black and- white dog named Blue looked over me like a guardian angel, sitting next to me in the tall grass as I painted horses, ensuring they kept their distance, and racing with me as I traveled by bike on one particular visit. The countless hours observing the horses in their natural state of being — sometimes from a distance, sometimes submerged within the center of the herd—  always entrancing, their tiffs, cliques, BFFs, romps, peaceful grazing, and moments of alert caution. The cattle also held their unique fascination, their vacillating mix of curiosity and utter disinterest in my presence, a palpably frenetic energy on branding day, and one afternoon when the wranglers moved a group of majestic white bulls, slowly swaying forth like the rhythmic pulse of white caps in the ocean.

To the Ranchlands team, who shared this place with others like me — as curious and naive (speaking only of myself on the latter) as kindergartners on their first day — thank you. Thank you in a way that words cannot express. Your unswerving acceptance and generosity, the grace with which you welcomed strangers into your lives and sacred spaces, leaves me in awe. Sometimes, I even find you intimidating, so solid and sensible, resounding with the refrain of all that is truly meaningful — qualities I hope I have absorbed from my time with you, this slice of heaven on earth. 

I will miss Chico.

Still, as this chapter ends, I find anticipation bubbling up through the fog of loss as I wait to see what the future holds for this team and ranching legacy for these champions of collaboration and conservation.