The Sky Whisperer

 

“The Sky Whisperer”

A Story for My Daughter, Drawn from Spirit

There once was an eagle — wild and wise — with a crown of snow on his head and deep brown wings that held the stories of the earth. He lived high in the mountains, where the clouds bowed low and the wind sang secrets to those who listened.

I drew him for you, my little one — my daughter, just four years old — with a heart already so big it could carry the whole sky. You looked at him and said, “Mama, he sees everything.” And you were right.

Because this eagle is not just a bird.
He is a spirit.
A guide.
A messenger between earth and sky.

He flies not only with wings, but with soul. He can see across mountains and deserts, through forests and rivers. His eyes don’t just see — they understand. He reads hearts from far away, knowing who is truthful, who is lost, and who is ready to rise.

He teaches us that:

• Freedom comes not from running away, but from rising above.

• Clarity is found when we see from a higher place.

• Courage means soaring even when the winds are wild.

• Connection lives between the visible and the invisible — where souls speak louder than words.

He is a symbol of transformation — shedding the old feathers of fear, doubt, and heaviness — and trusting the skies to carry what comes next.

I see this eagle in you, my little girl.
In the way your eyes hold curiosity.
In your fierce love and quiet strength.
In how you understand things not yet spoken.

You are my eagle child —
born to be wild,
born to feel deeply,
born to fly where others won’t dare.

And when you grow up, I hope you’ll remember:
That you have wings.
That you carry spirit.
That no matter how far I am — I will feel you.
Like the eagle feels the wind.
Like souls feel each other through the sky.

So I drew him — this wise, sky-whispering guardian — not just for your wall, but for your heart.
To remind you that you were always meant to fly.

– Mama (Vera)
Five Wonders Art

Born of the Wind – A Tribute to the Mustang Spirit

 

Born of the Wind – A Tribute to the Mustang Spirit

Born of the Wind – A Tribute to the Mustang Spirit

There are horses… and then there are Mustangs.

The first time I drew a Mustang, I didn’t just sketch an animal — I captured a force of nature. The way the wind seemed to ripple through its mane, the fire in its eyes, the grounded power in its stance — it wasn’t just a horse. It was freedom itself.

Mustangs are descendants of wild horses brought to the Americas by the Spanish hundreds of years ago. But make no mistake — they belong to no one. They run wild, untamed, and proud across the deserts and plains of the American West. For centuries, they’ve lived in harmony with nature, surviving storms, harsh lands, and human cruelty. And yet… they still run.

To me, the Mustang represents:

Freedom — the kind that can't be bought or broken
Strength — not just of muscle, but of spirit
Wilderness — the beauty of what exists without control
Speed — swift as thought, raw as instinct
Energy — wild and alive, pulsing like the earth’s heartbeat
Connection to Nature — not separate from it, but part of its rhythm

As I drew this portrait, I felt that connection come alive in every pencil stroke. The wind, the dust, the thunder of hooves — I wanted to honour the sacred untamed spirit that the Mustang carries.

We live in a world that often cages the soul. That tames, trains, and quiets the wildness in us. But the Mustang reminds us:
We were not born to live small.
We were born to run with purpose, to stand strong, to feel the earth beneath our feet and the sky above our backs.

This drawing is my tribute — to every wild spirit, every free soul, every Mustang heart that refuses to be broken.

— Vera
Five Wonders Art

Grunt the Soul Dog – A Guardian in Fur

 

Grunt the Soul Dog – A Guardian in Fur

There once was a dog named Grunt — a strong, wide-shouldered Staffordshire with a heart that pulsed like a drumbeat of loyalty and love. He wasn’t just a pet. He was a guardian, a brother, a soul companion.

He would sit quietly, licking his buttered bread with such care, his eyes calm and full of knowing. Grunt didn’t need words. He felt emotions before they were spoken. He stood silently between his owner and danger, not out of fear or violence, but pure devotion. He protected, listened, loved.

It’s been over thirty years since Grunt passed away, but his spirit still lives. That’s the magic of animals — they don’t just walk beside us, they live within us. Forever.

This story reminds me why I draw animals with such soul. A portrait of a pet is never just decoration. It’s memory. It's emotion. It’s a tribute to love without conditions.

If you’ve loved a pet the way my friend loved Grunt, then you know — they are more than animals. They are soul beings.

That’s what I honour in every stroke of my pencil.

“Like the wisdom in this portrait, animals too carry ancient spirit.”

— Vera
Five Wonders Art

Wisdom in Her Eyes

 

Wisdom in Her Eyes – A Portrait of a Hupa Elder

Her name has been lost to time, but her eyes still speak.

She was a Hupa woman, born into the sacred forests of Northern California in 1853. In the lines of her face, I saw mountains. In the tilt of her chin, I saw resistance. And in her eyes — I saw wisdom that stretched beyond centuries.

The Hupa people have lived in the Hoopa Valley along the Trinity River for thousands of years. Known for their deep relationship with nature, the river, and the redwoods, they are a people of ceremony, of vision, of earth-bound spirituality. Like many indigenous tribes, they endured colonization, forced assimilation, broken treaties — yet never forgot who they were.

This old woman, wrapped in woven cloth, hair silver and wild, did not wear her age with sorrow. She wore it like a warrior’s crown. I loved drawing every detail of her portrait — the strong cheekbones, the patterns etched by the sun, the softness that held strength like fire wrapped in wool.

When I draw indigenous people, I don’t just see a face — I see a living archive of truth. A mirror of the soul. A sacred connection that the modern world has forgotten.

The Hupa, like many noble tribes, never stopped standing for their freedom. They fought for their land, their language, their rights, their dignity. And in many ways, they still fight — not with weapons, but with ceremony, presence, and memory.

To me, indigenous people remind us of something that cannot be colonized: the spirit.
They remind me of the wildness within us, of the sacredness in nature, of the whispers of God in wind and water. They carry the old wisdom — not written in books, but carved into bone, sung into the air, woven into baskets, and held in the eyes of elders.

Eyes like hers.

When I drew her portrait, I didn’t want to change anything. I wanted to honour her. Every line, every wrinkle, every shadow — a symbol of resilience. She didn’t ask to be remembered, but she deserves to be. Through art, I want her story to live.

Because in her gaze, I saw a prayer.
Not for revenge.
Not for glory.
But for us — the disconnected ones — to remember.

To remember who we are.
To return to soul.
To live with earth.
To see spirit in everything.

That’s why I draw.

That’s why I honour indigenous people through my art — to keep sacredness visible in a world that too often forgets.

— Vera
Five Wonders Art