When I was an early teenager, I would spend my summers exploring the lakes, forests, and rolling hills of Medical Lake, Washington. Together, my sister, cousin, and I would roam my aunt and uncle's 30-something acres from dawn to dusk.
I spent every day outside climbing trees, hay barrels, and chasing the goat who was utterly convinced it was a dog. I never imagined myself captivated by a barrel of hay or a broken-down tractor, but for a native Nevada desert rat like me, it was a whole new world.
We fished from canoes, rode horses, played with farm animals, and even had makeshift photo shoots enamored by the rustic charm of country life. There wasn't a day spent where I wasn't covered in dirt and mud. Every night the gas tank on the quard-runner was empty from us tearing up the terrain of my aunt and uncle's front yard.
When we weren't playing in the grass pastures, we would head into town blasting Carrie Underwood while we all sang along. The thoroughfare of Main Street Medical Lake took only 10 minutes to get from one end to the other. Compared to home, it looked like a toy town with one fire station, one police station, one diner, one grocery store, one high school, one ice cream shop, and a Mexican restaurant.
Despite its small size, each place had a soul, a heartbeat that pulsed with the spirit of community. The town may have been small, but its heart was anything but. It was a place where everyone knew your name, and every interaction felt like a warm embrace.
These memories are painted in my mind as vividly as many of my artworks. I can still hear our laughter echoing through the dense forest as we darted between the trees. This magical landscape was a sanctuary that filled my childhood summers with wonder.
It's heartbreaking to think that the very landscape that was a canvas for so many of my youthful memories is now endangered. The wildfires currently raging through this beloved area have not only consumed lives and homes but also places that hold stories, laughter, and life.
My heart sank when I heard about the wildfires tearing through this region I love so much. For me, this isn't just another news headline; it's a call to action.
I've curated a collection of paintings that carry the essence of Washington's natural beauty - beauty that right now is under siege. My art captures the colors, shapes, and emotions that this special place has offered me, and I believe it can offer you something too.
Medical Lake has given so much to me, I want to give back in any way I can. For the next 2 weeks, I'll be donating 70% of the proceeds from each landscape painting sold directly to families affected by the wildfires. If any of these pieces resonate with you, you can purchase them directly from my website, or email me at info@carmavisions.com.
If you are not in a position to purchase a painting, or if the artwork is not your cup of tea - that's okay. Simply sharing this blog post with your friends and family can go a long way.
I believe art has the power to change the world. It's a force for good and can make a tangible difference. Let's make this a story of how a community came together to rebuild another.
Other Ways to Help
Mitch and Judy are beloved friends and neighbors to my aunt and uncle. Unfortuntaly they have lost their home from the wildfires in Medical Lake. As parents to an 11-year-old, they're facing more than the loss of a house; they're coping with a shattered sense of stability and security.
We have a tangible way to lend a helping hand during this difficult time. I've included an Amazon Gift List in this email; each item selected will directly contribute to rebuilding their lives. A simple item can mean a world of difference to them right now. Please consider choosing something from the list to show them they're not alone.