Leslie Ann Lemieux - Artist-Illustrator, Caregiver

My husband planned this wonderful weekend for just the two of us to be discovering new places. He knew I needed this weekend to just be in nature. Away from the daily responsibilities that suddenly came into my life. This trail, in the drawing, would be the last nature hike my husband and I took together. On this particular hike, this was as far as the two of us could go. Sometimes, we must face the fact that the roads we had chosen for ourselves end up full of unclimbable rocks. Sometimes, the road ends un-expectantly. Some

Based on a photo I took of a low lying mist and fog moving into the valley where I live. It was evening time, just before the October sun was about to fade away.  I loved how the fog in the background, hovering over the Oregon Coastal Range, mimicked the overhanging mist in the foreground. The mist in the foreground was rising up out of the ground, like a veil. Just floating so free and close to the earth. 

During my early days of  grieving, I felt like I was in a fog. Only, the fog I experienced was overwhelming. Everything that use to be there was covered in an emotional whiteness, rendering no direction at all. My grief overcame all of my life. The fog slowly lifted over those first few years after my husband’s death. The sun came out eventually, revealing a new world that I did not expect. Since that first loss in my life, I have experienced the loss of my oldest son and my father. I am also experiencing the ambiguous loss that comes with caring for my mother, who also has vascular dementia. I haven’t had a real break from caring for my elderly parents with dementia since 2013. No sooner than after my father and son passed, (four months apart), I was called to take care of my mo

Each of us feel like the weight of the world is heavy upon us now. The third year of the Covid 19 pandemic has so many of us just feeling like this sampling pine. Cold harsh circumstances just pulling its weight down on our feebleness. It’s hard at these times, to remember that snow eventually melts away. Let’s hope the Covid 19 virus will too eventually be gone in days to come. 

Yet, many of us are still burden by many other things in life. So many things can weigh the heart and soul down. Keeping the perspective that all will eventually change somehow is so difficult if you are like this small tree weighted down with about six inches of snow. I took this photo of this small tree, while I was living in the Spokane area in 2020. I had just rented a room to rent, transferred my tutorial job to the Spokane area, when the lockdown from Covid hit within one month of my arrival there. The person I rented from lived on eight acres. This tree

There was this path I was exploring in a local park. The path was a small incline up a hill, easy to walk up. While walking up this hill, the view was beautiful to the left of me. I could see easily for several miles. The hill only about a 1/4 mile away stood high with 50-100 pine trees, looking stately with their lower limbs gone. The sky peaking through them to reveal the valley in the background. To the right of me, there was a subdivision being built. Not much of a view. Straight in front of me was some trees, with the curve of the path leading upward. Beneath the trees was a ton of tall grass growing in the warm early Summer heat. The curve up the hill looked as if it would lead straight up and over. 

When I approached the top of the hill, instead of it continuing straight, this huge fir tree blocked out the sunshine, and the path suddenly curved to the left. The way I thought the path would go was gone. Because, my vision for the path was limited to my assumptions. This is something I must work on often, I assume a lot. It’s a way for me to predict the future. Why do I do this? I do not like uncertainty. If I can predict something, then I can control as much as possi

Based on a photo I took years ago, when I lived in southern part of Montana. When I was growing up, during the 1960’s, in the greater Los Angeles area, my maternal grandmother would tell me stories about her childhood. I found them extremely fascinating to hear. My grandmother had grown up in Cody Wyoming. Right on the cusp of the 19th to 20th century. Her mother’s first child, (who died shortly afterwards), would be the first white child to be born in the area. My great-grandfather was one of the original park rangers for the Grand Teton/Yellowstone Park. He ended up with a large family of girls and one boy to support. One of the stories that I did not hear from my grandmother actually came from her cousin, whom I met after I had moved to Bozeman MT in 2000. They told me more stories about my great-grandparents and their siblings. One of those stories was that my great grandfather use  to be a Karst Stagecoach driver. That company still exists and continues to take tourists from Bozeman down to West Yellowstone. Only, the horses are now big buses.

  Right after I graduated from college, as a single parent, I found a cheap rental for my son and I. Now,

Thank-You for purchasing my pen and ink drawing. I hope you enjoy it for a very long time. 

Based off of a photo I took at the Columbia Gorge outside of Portland Oregon. This was taken at the Woman’s Forum, which is a favorite tourist pullout off of the Historic Highway 30 on the westside of Crown Point. I have taken enough photos of the view from there looking upon the glorious Columbia River to the east. To the west of the parking lot though, there is not much to look at. I noticed though, a gate and what looked like a path. As the few tourists gazed and took selfies in the opposite direction, I decided to check out the path. Where did it go to? 

It was mysterious because the path curved The path was lined with trees and bushes. I followed the path just far enough to see it e

Based on a photo I took walking through a nature park in the town where I live. The sunlight on the path invited me to keep going even deeper. Which at this point of the hike, was a little daunting for several reasons. One, I have mobility issues. My hips are shot and walking can be painful. Two, grieving so many losses lately made me a bit more fearful than my pre-grieving days. This was a path unknown to me. How far did it go? I had no idea. 

For my first few visits to the trail, when I got to this point, I had turned back. I didn’t want to risk not being able to get back to the car if my joints couldn’t stand on my feet much longer. By the third trip though, I had to made the choice to see where the path would end. Fortunately for me, the remainder of the hike was not as long as I feared. By the time I got to this part of the path, I was over the half way mark. 

Based on a photograph of a country road in central Oregon. Summertime is full of adventures. And I wanted one badly. Only, my adventure could only last at tops, for a few hours. I am my mother’s caregiver. She is in the middle stages of dementia. Most of her day revolves around sleeping. She likes to start her day in the late afternoon or early evenings. The other thing about my mother, is that she just moved to Oregon for me to care for her. I thought that she would want to travel and see more of this beautiful state. Nope…nada…she wants to stay put in her room. 

As for me…get me out into this beautiful land! While she is sleeping, I can take a few hours and find new places to discover. This dirt road in western Oregon, was nothing extra ordinary at first glance. It was interesting enough, but not anything extra-ordinary for a coastal mountain range dirt road. Hill on one side covered in pines and vine maples. A small valley laying at its feet with rural housing. There is usually pastures with horses or sheep or whatever domesticated animals that the property owner wanted. 

I live in a semi-rural area of Central Oregon. The town I live in is a college town, and has most of the things I need for living. What I cannot find here, I go to the next town which is eight miles away. There, I get the rest of whatever I need at the moment. There is basically only two main roads running between the two towns. After a short while, this becomes boring to drive back and forth. So I look for the backroads to help me get to a fro each time. 

This road is one of my favorite back roads. Its the twisting of the road at this particular point that intrigued me. I just love how it switches back and forth. So very old school. In order to take this photo for the drawing, I had to park my car next to an old school or grange hall that had to be at least 80 years old. I walked to the middle of the road, snapped the picture…wallah! I got the perfect angle that I saw driving over it. I love how this curve in the road forces you to slow down to about 15 mph. When driving that slow, you see so much more. I can imagine the trees protecting the curve of the road as they hover over it. The growth there is old and overcomes the trees. It creeps u

I have been living in my town since 2020. I moved in with my youngest son during the height of the Covid 19 pandemic at the beginning of summer. For the next four months, I transformed our empty apartment into a home. I also started a part-time job working as a home helper caregiver. There was not much time for me to do anything else. Four months later, I would move my elderly mother in with us. The rainy season had started. Though Oregonians are use to doing everything in the rain, my aging bones prefers staying indoors. Shopping and going to work was enough outdoors from October until April. 

By the time the next summer came around, I was very eager to start checking out the local parks. I had missed getting out for walks in the parks. Going for long walks in the town. When I finally got some free time, and better spring weather, I decided to check out this one park. I am very glad that I did. The park is perfect for this lady.