Dawn Wink: Dewdrops

Writing, Teaching, Language, Landscape, Life





In Celebration of Heroines—Moms and Daughters

Wynn, Dawn, Joan, 2001

But behind all your stories is your mother’s story, for hers is where yours begins.
— Mitch Albom

It is fitting that May brought both Mother’s Day and Wynn’s high school graduation. It is fitting to celebrate both of these women in the same month—both of these women are my heroines. A heroine, as defined by Dictionary.com:

          1. a woman noted for courageous acts or nobility of character:
          2. a woman who, in the opinion of others, has special achievements, abilities, or personal qualities and is regarded as a role model ideal
Both of these descriptions express the exceptional character and spirit of Mom and Wynn. I dedicate this piece to the celebration of all of our moms and daughters in all of their unique strength and spirit. When I visualize the connections between mothers and daughters, an infinity sign appears. There is no beginning and no ending, but instead a forever connection, threading each new generation with the women whose lives created her own.

“I never knew how much my heart could hold until someone called me Grammie.” ~Joan Wink

Mom and me, 2017

Mom and Wynn share granite strength under their generous spirits, smiles, laughter, and kindness. Both of these women have chosen to shape their lives not defined by the challenges that life held, but instead by what they want to share with the world—generosity of spirit, kindness, and love. On the days when I feel weak under the pressures of life, I don’t look far for inspiration. On those days (weeks, months, years…) when the weight of life feels too much, I look to the experiences of Mom and Wynn and how they handle them. Whatever I may be experiencing soon pales in comparison.

I have been blessed to have a mom who lives how to create a life abundantly rich in passion for family, friendships, and career. She greets all aspects of life with as much—if not more!—energy now than ever before. She shows me how to live a life of love and positive energy with family, friendships, and passion for what we do at the core of all. “Bloom where you’re planted,” she tells me. In states and on ranches across the West—Wyoming, Arizona, California, Texas, and South Dakota—she has not only bloomed, but
tirelessly encouraged others to do so, as well.
Wynn composes the art of her life through each individual act. She chooses each word and thought expressed with deep intention. Again, again, and again, I have witnessed her choose kindness and love in all situations, including situations that tend not to inspire responses of kindness and love. Wynn lifts herself beyond the situation and into the greater context. Her generosity of spirit and graceful way of living humble and inspire me.
The strength of character, way of walking through this world, and essence of love of both of these women inspire me every single day.
 So to celebrate Mother’s Day and Wynn’s graduation seemed only fitting.
For Mother’s Day, we made our annual Mother’s Day pilgrimage to Restaurante Rancho de Chimayó, where we had the traditional prickly pear lemonade for kids and prickly pear margaritas for adults. Luke drove up from Tucson to join us. Wyatt was at 14,000 ft. on a mountain doing what he loves and guiding a trek.

Mother’s Day 2017, Wynn, me, Luke

Prickly pear lemonade for kids and margaritas for adults.

I saved my gift from Mom to open:
 From Mother’s Day we segued right into Wynn’s graduation from St. Michael’s High School. Mom and Dad arrived, just as they did for Wyatt’s graduation, and Luke’s. It’s not a Wink event unless you’re lifting something heavy and working, so for this graduation, our goal was to get a roof on the ramada! Dad immediately grabbed a hammer and dove in with Noé.
 When the great day arrived, we all piled into the pick-up. Mom’s face should be right with the boys.
Off to the Cathedral Basicilica of St. Francis of Assisi for the graduation ceremony.

Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi

Our graduate!

Grammie and Bop Bop love Wynn.

Wynn and Noé

After graduation festivities. Luke, me, Noé, Wyatt


May was a big month for my heroines, Wynn and Mom. Both begin a new chapter of life. Wynn with high school graduation and Mom with her appointment to the South Dakota Board of Regents. It is a blessing to be the generation between two women who never cease to amaze, inspire, and strengthen me. Congratulations and love from the bottom of my heart to you both.

In celebration of the magnificence and wonder of heroines.

Wynn and Grammie, 2017

Wynn and Grammie, 2001


Women’s March—Why I Marched, The Smallest Voice Counts

The Smallest Voice Counts ©Wynn Wink-Moran

A few months have come and gone since the Women’s March in Washington, DC. While the divide yet runs deep, conversations that span the spectrum of beliefs within my own circle of women friends give me great hope that there is so much more that unites, rather than divides us.

If I could tease out a single thread of what unites us, it is found in our humanity, our common experiences as women. Experiences women have shared throughout history that even the most divisive political rhetoric cannot splinter. The political has become the personal. Many of these conversations take place in hushed voices, an intimacy of experiences and trust in the other. We sink into shared history and present. What kind of a world do we want for our daughters? For our sons? For ourselves? For the gorgeous, varied humanity with whom we share the planet? We want the best for our world, our children, our families, for the children and families of others. I trust in our shared experiences throughout history to bring us together.

Wynn Wink-Moran

Three generations of Wink Women flew to DC and boarded a bus to march. I lift up the spirit of the march here through the photos of my daughter, Wynn, and powerful words Why I Marched by forever friend, Dawn Dobras, who when asked why she marched wrote sheer power and beauty.

Wynn experienced the march through the lens of the camera. I did not know what she saw or captured until we had returned home. 

©Wynn Wink-Moran

Dawn Dobras

Why I Marched by Dawn Dobras

I was asked this weekend, why I marched in DC and am sharing this my response below:
I marched this weekend in DC in the women’s march– which easily could have been called the Humanity March.
I marched for the women’s right to choose. Regardless of how you feel about terminating a pregnancy, I marched to protect a mother’s right to choose that outcome.
I marched for every mother, woman and man that is an immigrant. I’m a proud descendant of immigrants and believe our country is stronger for them.
I marched for religious freedom. As a wife and mother with Jewish kids but being Christian– I don’t want to see any individual need to register because of their religion and can’t support a Muslim registry. It wasn’t good for Jews in Germany, Japanese in WW2 in the US and it’s not ok now. At all.
I marched for racial equality, because I believe that it’s not the color of the skin that determines your contribution to our country or your rights as a citizen.
I marched for the LGBT community because I believe your sexual orientation does not change your place in our community or your rights.
I marched for every disabled friend and parent of disabled children. Their presence in my life enriches me greatly and does not deserve mocking.
I marched for providing health care for mothers and children– who by the numbers, are most likely to be impacted by lack of access to health care.
And I marched for Mother Earth! Climate change is real and every day that we fail to recognize this we are failing our children and grandchildren.

Mom and daughters march together: Dawn, Mary Ann, Amy Dobras

Finally, I did march to preserve women’s rights. I am the deep beneficiary of the women who marched before us. You have a law degree, I have an MBA. But that wasn’t always the case for our mothers or grandmothers. And I can’t support a president that believes a women’s physical appearance and being a “10” is more important than my brain power and my ability to achieve.
I have a very high bar for a leader of 200 million people and I was marching to remind him that there are consequences for disregarding basic human decency.
All that, and I feel so honored to be a part of this weekends march. I have never felt more American, and more connected to my fellow citizens than being a part of a swell of people– all ages, races, sexual orientation, nationalities– asking for basic rights to be respected by our leader. It was a life experience that I will always remember and look forward to the next one.

With love,

Dawn Dobras

I discovered interspersed with photos that Wynn took of the march were photos of stark beauty.

We re-discovered family. Roots, roots, roots, and a whole new family constellation of stars formed in the sky.

Cuzzin Martha, Mom, Leslee, Frank, Mel, Wynn

As my cousin, Mel, said, “When you meet family that you never knew you had and aren’t even technically related to—but they end up being super cool.” #ByMarriageTwiceRemoved #StillCounts

Mom gave me these socks. True.

This stained glass felt made for the moment, “The healing of the world is in its nameless saints. Each separate star seems nothing, but a myriad of scattered stars break up the night and make it beautiful.”

Even the smallest voice counts. 


Photojournal of the Ranch, Spring 2017

Mom’s window, facing East

After Costa Rica, home briefly and then to the ranch. As my cousin, Janet, said, “Wait. Just. A. Minute. Costa Rica to South Dakota for Spring Break? You’ve got that flipped!” 

We loved it. We went for the college’s Spring Break. Wynn stayed in Santa Fe for her own school. This is the first trip I’ve made in over 20 years without children. This is also the longest I’ve been able to spend on the ranch in years and years. As many of the photos are worth a thousand words, I’ll get out of the way and let them speak for themselves and our time there. 

It takes 14 hours to drive from Santa Fe if you only stop briefly at the Barnes & Nobles Bookstore in CO and for gas in Lusk, WY. We always drive in one day, leaving early in the am. 

Noé and I arrived just in time for wine, cheese, and crackers.

Woke the next morning to this sunrise.

And this sign, as we walked to the ranch house for coffee.

Mom loaned me her pink Carhartt’s and Noé, Dad, and I headed out to see all on the ranch that we’d missed over the past year. 

Mom’s Little Free Library at the top of the lane.

Two beloved horses—Josie, on the right, inspired the mare, Mame, in Meadowlark. Josie’s son, Frankie (Ol’ Mr. Blue Eyes) is one of Mom’s BFF’s. To say that she adores him would be an understatement. 

Joanie and Frankie—A love story.

Josie’s coat in the sun. 

Wink’s WashoutNow open for Summer/Fall 2017!

One of the things I love about Mom and Dad’s ranch house is that it is filled with bits of beauty from our own family history and from around the world. Some beauty to share. 

Mom’s other window facing East.

Smiling tea pot and cups. The first was Bo’s and mine as children. She’s added for the grands throughout the years. 

Mom’s bookshelves of treasures, including teddy bears made of my Grandma Mary’s fur coat (one really doesn’t wear them anymore…), needle and quiltwork from dear friends, a doll made my by Great Grammie Lucille with her own hair, a pair of bootie’s knitted for Wyatt, duckies that represent the grands, and gifts from around the world.

Mom’s vintage marble collection, started in Cascabel.

Jeans hung out to dry.

Pregnant mamas ready to give birth.

We spent a gorgeous afternoon with my cousin, Missy, who has taught in a one-room schoolhouse, grades K-8, for the past several years. Her students are the most fortunate in South Dakota. Here, a storm moves in during our time there.

Storm moves in. Atall School. ©Missy Urbaniak

Storm over Atall School. ©Missy Urbaniak

Mom brought the kids books from Arizona. They surprised her with a birthday party!

Missy’s sons, Bailey, Everett, and I found the school library. While Mom and Missy worked, we found loads of books for the boys to read next. Such treasures from when my own boys were this age that brought back such memories of our reading together. It was all I could not to curl up and start reading to them in that moment.

Bailey, Everett, and books!

View from ranch house on porch facing East. Prairie Parlour on left. 

Memories of the Cascabel Ranch and Mexico.

Memories of Mexico and Cascabel

It was a week of wonderfulness. 

South-facing Porch



Educational Leadership in Costa Rica

Once upon a time in Costa Rica, a group of teachers came together in a magical place called Escuela Espiral Maná. Here in the midst of all, we wrestled with angels about how to create educational leadership through blogs.

Founder and educator extraordinaire, Mary Scholl created this school and this course through sheer heart and expertise. I was fortunate to be invited.

Together, we wrote, read, created, laughed, wrote, struggled, and wrote and learned some more.
We explored leadership, education, writing, and compassionate communication under the eaves of plants and tin metal roofs.

The teachers gathered together supported one another in our journeys.

The angels of the kitchen, los angeles de la cocina, sustained our bodies and spirits, as we learned.

We collaborated, learned, talked, learned some more, and created.

Our week-long journey had each of us thinking about our professional and personal journeys of contribution.

Noé with a gorgeous cup of coffee on our final day.

Our journeys continue. We each strive and stumble our way through the dance of life, teaching, and writing.

Thankfully, we are together in our journey.



From Ranch to Speaker


Dean Wink, Custer Buffalo Roundup 2016 ©Sherry Bunting

Dean Wink, Custer Buffalo Roundup 2016 ©Sherry Bunting

From Ranch to Speaker

Sherry Bunting for Progressive Cattleman

A gorgeous piece written about my dad, Dean Wink, rancher and Speaker of the House of the South Dakota House of Representatives, by Sherry Bunting for Progressive Cattleman. Bunting conveys my dad’s spirit and the ranching and political life, no small feat. Enjoy. 

South Dakota cattleman reflects, looks ahead

He may have grown up on a typical 1940s diversified farm in Iowa, but Dean Wink and the South Dakota prairie adopted each other decades ago.

The longtime rancher served eight years, representing Meade and Butte counties, in the South Dakota House of Representatives and termed-out as speaker at the end of 2016.

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

His time in the legislature was marked by the balance a rancher understands – that of knowing limitations, seeing short-term decisions in the context of long-term outlooks, building relationships, relying on gut instincts, appreciating how a mix of views – like a mix of grasses – strengthens the land and “following your heart on the right way to go at a given time.”

After graduating with degrees in biology and physical education from Yankton College in South Dakota, he made a brief pro football career with the Philadelphia Eagles, followed by earning his masters in physical education and teaching at colleges while his wife, Dr. Joan Wink, followed her educational pursuits.

From there, he went back to a ranching partnership in Cascabel, Arizona, and time working for a Texas cattle company. He ultimately returned to South Dakota in 1988 to establish roots on land first homesteaded by Joan’s grandparents in Howes – about 65 miles east of Rapid City.

Roots for the long run

It is this ranch on the western South Dakota prairie where Wink seems most at home, managing the cattle, horses, grasslands, wildlife – and their biological interdependence. “The grasses depend on the cattle, and the cattle depend on the grasses, and we depend on the cattle and the grasses,” Wink explains.

The Ranch, South Dakota Sunset ©Sherry Bunting

The Ranch, South Dakota Sunset ©Sherry Bunting

Such interdependence followed Wink to the legislature where, as speaker pro tem and then speaker, his goal was “to always respect the process, so colleagues could be assured their bills would have a fair hearing.”

“I always recommend to concerned citizens that they get to know as many legislators as possible before asking them for their vote on a particular bill,” Wink relates.

“Both parties need a chance to express their points of view before critical votes are taken. There may be insights that both sides need to know, where amendments can be offered to bring parties together.”

Dean Wink, Custer Buffalo Round-Up ©Sherry Bunting

Dean Wink, Custer Buffalo Round-Up ©Sherry Bunting

The South Dakota legislature is one of only 15 with term limits, something Wink has always supported. But he admits that it has a downside: “It does give more power to the administration.”

When legislatures turn over, the administrative bureaucracy continues on through these changes and can gain the upper hand in regulation ahead of representative legislation.

Ranchers understand the limitations of the land. At the Wink ranch, cows are moved once every 30 days so that each of the 12 1,000-acre pastures get grazed once per season for 30 days.

Wink Ranch ©Sherry Bunting

Wink Ranch ©Sherry Bunting

Stocking densities are 20 acres per cow for six months and 10 to 1 over the summer. In Arizona, the limitations were different; his stocking densities were 100 acres per cow.

As we drive, he points out the projects he is glad to be working on to make the management more “hands-off” so he and Joan can travel more. After Winter Storm Atlas devastatingly downsized the herd in 2013, Wink began renting pasture to young ranchers from June through September instead of building his own herd back up to its pre-storm numbers.

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

We talk about the variety of native grasses from the short curly buffalo grass that greens up quickly after a rainfall to the western wheat grass, tall green needle and bluestem. Each has its place and time in the life cycle of the prairie.

“A mix of warm- and cool-season grasses is always the goal,” he says, noting that this year’s drought punctuates two years of ample moisture following the previous three years of drought.

Such is the dryland prairie. “We have to know the best use of the land, the limitations – soil type and moisture. I would like to see it stay in grass, and we need cattle on this land to do that,” Wink observes.

“Most of these ranches do not have enough water in the wells to irrigate for crops, but this land works well for livestock.”

A future for producers

We stop at a break in the fenceline. While he helps an escaped calf back through to its anxious mama, Wink talks about the future of the beef industry.

Wink Ranch ©Sherry Bunting

Wink Ranch ©Sherry Bunting

“Concentration in the packing industry is at a worrisome level. The cattle market has the influence of hedge funds driving cash markets via the futures markets,” he observes. “At the same time, the cash markets are razor-thin because packers have controlling interest in the cattle supply, even in cases where they don’t own the land.”

While he knows that farmers and ranchers, like himself, are used to the market cycles, his concern is how the captive supply adds another dimension that farmers and ranchers can’t prepare for.

He cites the cow numbers being down to 50-year lows in 2013-2014, with the world looking for beef. “We usually see three- to four-year cycles, but this time we saw just one very good year in 2014 and then it crashed.”

It’s not a complaint so much as a desire to see cycles based truly on supply and demand, where producers have some opportunity to prepare for the bust during the boom.

“Agriculture is unique. We have no control over aspects of weather or markets, but the things we can control are the antitrust issues,” he says.

As the industry moves toward fewer independent feedyards and a growing sector of captive supply, he wonders how long it will be before packers having formulas based on the weaned calf, making it tough for the cow-calf operators to get the bids for their calves.

Independence and resilience

The challenge going forward? To have a beef industry that works as a team while realizing the combined independence and interdependence of the farmers and ranchers within that team.

Dean Wink, Philadelphia Eagles, 1968

Dean Wink, Philadelphia Eagles, 1968

“Playing football in the NFL was probably the most memorable time of my life,” the South Dakota rancher reflects. “I came into it as an undrafted free agent and got the call from the Philadelphia Eagles to be activated to play.

I will never forget Bob Brown (Hall of Fame offensive lineman known as “The Intimidator”). I lined up with him at practice every day for two years. I learned from him to hold my own.”

In the same way, he says, farmers and ranchers can hold their own in a changing beef industry and, if given a fair shake, can do so long term.

“Globalization is taking place whether we want it or not, and we have to adapt to it,” Wink affirms. “But if we can’t compete with Brazil on our scale or cost of production, then we should be able to differentiate our product with labels and let consumers decide.”

He and others were devastated three years ago by the ill-timed Storm Atlas in the Black Hills region – home to a large source of cattle, where the grasslands and livestock and rural economies are interdependent.

“Storm Atlas demonstrated how tenuous being in this business of agriculture can be. Most people who are not involved don’t realize that the two main criteria for success and profit (Mother Nature and the market for our products) are things for which we have very little control,” Wink relates.

“The biggest regret I hear and feel is that we couldn’t benefit from the best cattle prices ever in the following year due to our loss of livestock in that storm.”

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

Dean Wink ©Sherry Bunting

But ranchers and farmers are a resilient bunch. They accept that being involved in agriculture comes down to “the job we do, the lifestyle we live and the joy and satisfaction we get from being involved,” he suggests. “Both the good and the bad come with the territory.”

As Country of Origin Labeling was repealed, Wink observes that it may be more important than ever to communicate with consumers about where their beef comes from, not just in terms of safety and regulations but in seeing that the U.S. beef industry is about more than being the most efficient beef producer or in contracting everything down to its lowest global cost.

There are livelihoods, legacies, limitations and the land to think about, including the interdependence of the cattle to the grasslands and prairie ecosystems, and of the people and rural economies that depend on both. 

Sherry Bunting is a freelance writer from Pennsylvania, who has covered livestock markets and production for over 30 years.

Custer Buffalo Roundup 2016 ©Sherry Bunting

Custer Buffalo Roundup 2016 ©Sherry Bunting


“The thing you think you cannot do.” A Marathon for Every Mother Counts


Team Wink, Every Mother Counts, Tucson Marathon, AZ


Every day, nearly 800 women and girls in the US and around the world die due to complications around pregnancy and childbirth—303,000 women every year. That’s one woman every 2 minutes. Up to 90% of these deaths are preventable.

Every Mother Counts raises funds and awareness through running to support their work to bring healthcare to women who otherwise would go without. Founder Christy Turlington chose running as the metaphor for the distance that some women have to travel, often walking, to get quality healthcare.

early-morning-running-with-clydeMy own running has always been private. This work inspired me to take my running public and commit to running a 26.2 mile marathon. I was more than a little bit terrified. What if I couldn’t do it? What if I didn’t finish and was found in a heap at the side of the road? What would I tell the people who had contributed funds? The fiction writer in me had all kinds of creative narratives created—just in case. 

A combination of inspiration to contribute to the work of Every Mother Counts and sheer terror of public humiliation spurred me forward throughout my training. I ran in the early morning hours before work, my headlamp bobbed in the darkness and bounced off the glow-in-the-dark leash of my dog and running partner, Clyde.



After first 20-mile run.

Three months later, it was time to head to Tucson for the marathon. I packed my running bag…


…and painted my toes, the 26.2 reminder to finish.


We left frozen Santa Fe to arrive to blooming bougainvillea in glorious Tucson.


I decorated the drop bag to make it easier to find. Plus, when in  doubt, add calavera skulls. Works for all occasions.


I woke the morning of the race to this beautiful haiku poem:

feet pound, lungs burn

frost silvers arroyo

earth turns toward dawn

~ Susan J. Tweit

Off we went. Noé dropped me off at the buses to take us to the starting point.


I sat amidst runners discussing in-depth their caloric intake planned per mile. They had cut up energy bars into bite-size pieces and planned the exact miles they would eat throughout the race. Stress mounted. What?! Was I supposed to do that?! I had eaten a handful of nuts in the car on the way to the bus and not given it a second thought. 

I moved seats and called Noé, who has run three marathons. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Just make sure you drink plenty of water and stay hydrated.” 

An hour later, the announcer counted down, and we were off. With each step, through each mile, I thought of the women I ran for, the blessings in my own life, the beauty of the surrounding Sonoran desert, and back to the women and girls who walked this distance for basic health care. I imagined the feeling of galloping horseback through the desert. The miles slipped by.


Prince’s song “Little Red Corvette” came into my mind. I sang along. I timed my mileage and kept each mile under my goal of 11-minute miles. Mile markers 7, 8, and 9 passed behind me. My calf which had been bothering me acted up. I popped Advil like Pez candy. I didn’t care if I had to put that leg in a sling and tie it around my neck and hop across the finish line, I was going to finish. More thoughts of women and girls, blessings, and the chorus of Little Red Corvette.

Mile 22 appeared. Only 4.2 more miles! As a runner, you always hear about The Wall that hits around mile 23. Wall, what wall? I felt great. My son, Luke, joined me as planned. 


We ran. Luke told me all about his classes, his friends, anything. 


Mile 23 ©Luke Wink-Moran

Then it hit. It hit hard. The Wall. Mile 25. The last five miles of the Tucson Marathon are uphill. I looked up the hill ahead of us, stopped, and bent over. I could not move my legs. I thought of everything that inspired me—blessings in my life, the women and girls who walked this distance while pregnant, the beauty of the desert, galloping horseback, every Prince and 80’s song I could think of… I dug deep. Nothing. I could not move.

“Mom,” Luke asked, “Where does it hurt?” 



Mile 25 – The Wall

Luke got down, stuck his face in mine, and bellowed, “THIS IS WHAT YOU TRAINED FOR, MARINE! YOU PAID FOR THIS PAIN. YOU GET YOUR ASS UP THIS HILL!”

It worked. I laughed. I ran. 

100 yards from the finish line I grabbed Luke’s hand. We ran the final stretch and across the finish line holding hands. As we approached the Finish line, tears ran down my cheeks.


Crossing Finish with Luke. ©Action Media

I did not let go of Luke’s hand. Not when we crossed the Finish line. Not when they draped the medal around my neck. Not when I threw up and he held the medal out of the way. Love this guy.


Love a medal with a skull.


I had wanted to run a marathon for more than 25 years. Every Mother Counts and their work inspired me to do so. As I ran miles in the early morning darkness and cold, imagining all kinds of scenarios in which I did not finish, I thought again and again of Eleanor Roosevelt who taught us, “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face…You must do the thing you think you cannot do.”

logoI want to give special thanks and love to generous friends and family who donated.  Together we raised nearly $1,500.00 to provide accessible healthcare to save the lives of women and girls giving birth in the US and around the world.

I realize that on the global scale, this is a drop in the bucket. Yet each drop represents lives. If we each add a drop, we can fill many buckets. 

I’m already thinking about my next marathon…