"The storm hit us about 12 o 'clock at night. There was some rain, and to the northwest I noticed just a few little bats of lightning. Then it hit us in full fury and we were in the midst of a wonderful electrical storm. We had the following varieties of lightning, all playing close at hand, I tell you: It first commenced like flash lightning, then came forked lightning, then chain lightning, followed by the peculiar blue lightning. After that show it rapidly developed into ball lightning, which rolled along the ground. After that spark lightning; then, most wonderful of all, it settled down on us like a fog. The air smelled of burning sulphur; you could see it on the horns of the cattle, the ears of our horses and the brim of our hats." - G.W Mills, cowboy, late 1800's, describing a storm near Ogallala, Nebraska.

I have always been captivated by such historical accounts of lightning dancing among the longhorns on the great drives. Cowboys called it Foxfire. Sailors called it St. Elmo's Fire when it appeared on ship masts, thought to be a good omen. Of course I've never seen it, but I did get caught in a sudden downpour while watching the Fort Worth Herd one summer. The experience was exhilarating and brought back those old tales. While painting this one, I got the notion that sometimes when revelation strikes, you have to cut yourself from the herd and light out on your own. Artistically, that's where I am... stepping out of old mindsets and exploring new possibilities.

My foundation scripture for this one is Isaiah 43:19 -
Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

                                                                               New Blog Post: An Artistic Thirst                                                                                                                 

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