Part of the art on the author's hand-painted windmill tail.

"Many of us, as children, had dreams of something special we would like to do or be when we grew up. I was one of those.

When I was a child, we lived across the street from a beautiful park. I would visualize going to the park with paints, brushes, and a canvas (even though we could not afford the art supplies), with a dream of splashing paint on the canvas to create a finished painting of birds flitting here and there around the water, or flowers blooming in the sunshine. Or, if it is the autumn season, the leaves in golds, reds, and yellows lying on the ground like a huge patchwork quilt. I visualized snow piled high, sparkling like a broken diamond necklace.

I grew up and married a wonderful man. We were blessed with six special children. For years, I put aside the thought of painting classes and dabbling in art. There was always plenty to do, with housekeeping, cooking nourishing food, keeping the clothes hamper empty, and taxiing children to swimming, tennis, and piano lessons.

Painting classes were finally a reality when I reached the age of 62. The substances on which I've painted include metal (milk cans, saws, saw blades, mailboxes), canvas, fabric, glass, rock, and walls (for murals).

My most unusual order was for a painting on a windmill "tail"—a huge deer on one side and two huge turkeys on the other. Now, many years later, 25 feet in mid-air, amidst the blazing sun and the fierce winds and cold of winter, the turkeys are still hiding from make-believe hunters. The deer is still running from the end of a shotgun.

Never give up your dream. It is never too late.

I'm 92 and still splashing paint.