Impression Evergreen

Kathleen I. Miller (July 18, 1944 ~ April 26, 2025) My mom was a warrior born and raised in Red Willow County, Nebraska. They tell me she was a free-spirit who rode on the back of a motorcycle, broke wild horses and shot blue rock for sport. After high school, she was drawn to the bright lights of the big city and got her degree in Nursing from Creighton University in Omaha. She had found her true calling, taking care of the sick. She married Bern Miller and along came her three sons: Dan, Doug and Dustin. We couldn’t have asked for a more loving, generous, inspiring person to have as the perfect role model for our journey to adulthood. When she wasn’t helping to cure the ill she was guiding us through life by sharing her knowledge and experience. She taught us how to endure difficult times and overcome any obstacles that stood in our way. She was an accomplished horsewoman who had the astonishing ability to communicate with all species of animals and birds. Her cherished yard was a lu...

The ranch It’s a smoky dusk in western Nebraska and as the spectral light begins to dissipate, the checklist of laborious chores comes to completion. Life on the ranch is hard as illustrated by battered grain bins and ragged hay bales but at least it’s not winter when the weather is brutal. The rhythm of life revolves around the horse as this beast of burden is indispensable to running a successful cattle ranch. This important work animal must be properly cared for from head to hoof, attending to its nutrition, hygiene and exercise. Weathered boots adorn the fence posts, signifying the passage of another tough year while the smoldering, prairie sunset marks the conclusion of summer. As darkness descends on the home place, the work day comes to an end and the peacocks go to roost.  The horse is indispensable Peacocks go to roost Ragged hay bales Prairie sunset A hard life Life revolves around the horse

Snowy Sangre de Cristos As the setting, winter sun makes its swift descent, the snowy Sangre de Cristos shimmer like a smokey, blue mirage. The peaks’ jagged silhouette is traced by a glowing contour, exaggerating the mountains’ awesome size and power. Scattered throughout the Wet Mountain Valley, abandoned homesteads offer sentimental value to the romantic, western landscape. Reinforcing the peaceful ambiance, horses graze happily in their pastures of paradise. Don’t be frightened by the mountains’ harsh nature and rugged features but let their irresistible magnetism draw you in. While navigating through the inevitable turmoil of a busy life, I catch myself reminiscing about these incredible crags and how they’re someplace I’d rather be. Sangre de Cristo Range Incredible crags Sentimental value Someplace I'd rather be Awesome size and power A jagged silhouette Rugged features Peaceful ambiance A blue mirage An abandoned homestead Grazing horses Wet Mountain Valley

"Red Mountain Range" Colored Pencil The Red Mountain Range sweeps southward across desolate ranch land where a barren tree sets the scale. It’s sunrise and the blue light has been scattered so crimson is the only color permeating the all-powerful peaks. The snow-covered summits are still mostly in shade but the first highlights melt into a sun-bleached sky.  The rugged chain is architectural in form as the violet shadows delineate the exciting shapes. The remarkable geometry is drawn into the bottom lands where the snowy pastures are divided by horizontal bands of ochre agriculture. The dark foreground is a rough-hewn hedge of tall grass and sagebrush. Visiting this site has inspired an artistic experiment about how best to express the transcendent nature of these mystical mountains. The series has come to an end but I’m not sure a satisfying conclusion has been achieved so further investigation may be required in the future.

Northport Blues Located on the distant side of the river, Northport is concealed in the faraway Sandhills of western Nebraska. From a high overlook, the idyllic valley is a comforting tapestry woven together from cottonwood trees, corn fields and cattle pastures. While out on the prairie wandering with the pack, it feels like you can march a million miles without ever seeing another soul. We accompany a little creek as it makes a lonely journey through remote ranch land until the confluence with the doleful North Platte. A herd of horses grazes near the riverbank but their curiosity is perked by the stranger who approaches their barbed fence line. Broncos are more prevalent than people as they are an important part of the very fabric that binds this frontier society. The region has been in a terrible drought but as a result, dry air allows warm light to infiltrate the peaceful vale. With not even a patch of snow, there is no White Christmas but on this special evening while roamin...

The stormy summit of Courthouse Rock Rising prominently out of the low prairie, Courthouse and Jail Rocks are historical landmarks that, once upon a time, guided wagon trains across western Nebraska. Today, the twin towers still loom over the Great Plains and after all these years, they’ve evolved into a formidable challenge to all free climbers. As Jail’s sheer rock wall is virtually impossible to ascend, we attempted to scale Court on a stormy, Saturday morning this past summer. A careful approach to the base of the beast was necessary because it traversed a rugged grassland rife with deadly rattlesnakes. We negotiated the lower sections of the imposing ziggurat without much concern as the sticky sandstone offered generous hand and foot holds. To reach the top, the crux of the climb was just below the final tier where we had to overcome the fear and physics of an unimaginable overhang. While we rested on the slender summit, we enjoyed a panoramic view that ranged from the ...

Silver Fox Trail Sunrise It’s a cold, autumn morning at Alderfer Ranch and the landscape is dark and blue. Suddenly, a crack of sunlight streaks across the foothills, permeating the web of tangled tree branches. Shafts of that persistent light stream through a dense layer of clouds, illuminating the big peaks to the west. Due to the dearth of birds, the eerie silence is a noticeable side-effect of the changing seasons. Draped over the rugged contour of rocky terrain, long shadows are in pursuit as I hike the Silver Fox Trail. I pass through a dormant grove of wiry aspen, glowing bright white against the dark woodland. Slivers of low light continue to creep across the meadow until the valley is filled with a comforting warmth. During this first golden hour, fluorescent rays infuse the area with a tinge of orange. Despite being an industrious night owl, the pre-dawn excursion is worth the chilling discomfort. The November sunrise is an enchanting moment, radiating encouragem...