2026, The Year of the HORSE(s)

MOONLiGHT, REFLECTiON, Argentia, & Rhythm | Pacing creation in the year ahead

Happy birthday to my niece and nephew.

On a work trip to Lebanon, New Hampshire in July, I decided to visit the lake which is the namesake of the site I was visiting, Mascoma. Exploring connection in pursuit of deeper meaning, particularly to place and time, often provides solace for a hyperactive, and at times incohesive stream of consciousness. It was relatively late, the sky was clear, and my path was lit only by a brilliant waning moon. In the quiet and serene calm, “moonlight” became more than the backdrop. It became a defining motif for 2025. Indigo. Night. Reflection. The feeling that something ancient and steady was still guiding the way.

That night also pulled a thread from much earlier in my life: stories about horses. Onyx and obsidian black horses. Growing up in the heart of horse country in Kentucky, Black Beauty  and The Black Stallion left their hoofprints on my memory. Not just as adventure stories, but as reminders that dignity and compassion matter, especially when power is involved. Interestingly, as I looked back and into the stories for clarity, I discovered my memory had blended the two. I swapped a climactic fire between the stories in my mind. It was an insightful, yet humbling moment, and also, a fitting one: sometimes we do not realize what we have misremembered until we slow down long enough to look again.

From moonlight and childhood imagination, a character emerged: Argentia, mare of the moonlight, and a guide, shaped by the imagination of children and the mysteries of the night. Around the same time, AI was becoming more present in my day-to-day life, not as a replacement for creativity, but as a new type of workshop. Creating Argentia turned into an immersive tutorial and relentless (and surprisingly joyful) iterative pursuit of images, including inspiration from Joshua Tree skies, the Snake River and the Tetons, redwoods, star fields, the Milky Way, Laniakea, and the awe of Zenyatta, the legendary filly whose story feels like its own kind of myth. In the process, I learned the discipline of iteration, refining prompts, noticing mistakes, comparing versions, practicing discernment, and slowly building trust in a tool that has become an unexpected companion in how I work and develop ideas, and whose personality was designed as a reflection of my own.

Somewhere in that loop, it dawned on me that these stories could become something more personal: a gift for my sister, and for my niece and nephew, one day. And then the seemingly obvious complement appeared: if Argentia lives by moonlight, who arrives by day?

That’s how Rhythm was born: colt of sunlight and the daily flow. Together, Argentia and Rhythm became a pair: night and day, rest and productivity, silver and charcoal, feminine and masculine, not as opposites in conflict, but as energies that belong together, beautifully balanced. (Allie and I have two twin gray cats, which made the “two shades of grey” feel like the universe smiling at the idea).

After feedback from close friends and my sister Leighanne, I ordered a few children’s workbooks from New Harbinger Publications with the intention of adding practical value alongside the stories. And honestly, some of what I read felt relevant not only for kids, but for anyone trying to grow with more self-awareness and kindness, even past the age some invisible scoreboard decided was supposed to be the peak.

With the drafts complete, I submitted the manuscripts to Blue Dot Kid’s Press, whose mission, rooted in Carl Sagan’s “Pale Blue Dot, the only HOME we have ever known,” feels deeply aligned with my own.

I chose to submit only there. Their review timeline is expected to run into February, right around when the “Year of the Horse” officially leaves the gate on February 17.

If coincidence counts for anything, I’m hoping it helps.

One beautiful part of the process is that they work with their own artists, meaning these stories could one day take on a completely different visual interpretation, a reminder that creativity is also a form of shared love: for community, for family, for animals, and for this pale blue home we all share.

If anyone is interested in an “author’s edition” copy (I printed a small run with Blurb for Christmas and birthdays), send me a note and we can work out the details while I await word from Blue Dot.

Happy New Year, one and all.