Sometimes she hears the twilight call to her. Sometimes the breeze in the tree tops whispers her name out loud. "Come outside," it says to her. "Come outside and watch as the Creator folds up the day and puts it away." She looks at the kitchen clock and it is 6:00 PM. It's time for chores. She makes up the bottle of warm milk for her little bucket calf, and walks out the back door and to the grain shed. There she gets the pallets, shuts the door and walks slowly to the barn. She is in a world of her own. She is noticing. She is watching as the Kansas skies become a picture perfect sight before her eyes. She listens as the last call of the wild comes to her ears. She is at peace, inside and out. She is enjoying her world. Over in the western skies, just beyond the huge cottonwoods, the painter has picked up His brush and dipped it first in a slate blue. Then He has so gracefully dipped it again into a light pink and swiped over the blue very softly. A