Reimer’s Candies and Ice Cream is a destination and a landmark in Three Rivers, California. It is now on its fourth owner in my lifetime, and it is just as busy as ever, just as popular, just as magnetic.
I drew it for the second owners, people with the name of Reimer, who bought it from the Huffakers, the folks who started the business. The Reimers commissioned me and then used my drawing on a thank you card to include in every box of candy that they shipped out. Owners #3 did the same.
By the time owner #4 came along, the drawing was too many generations away from the original to look good any more, and the printer I used to use is most likely out of business.
We tried to foof it up, to make it good enough to use, but alas, not even Photoshop was up to the pixelation and moray patterns that resulted in printing from a print that had been printed from a print. . .
When owner #4 asked me how to get more cards printed, I suggested that he hire me to draw it again. He agreed, saying that some changes have been made to the property, so I took photos from as many angles as I could manage, trying to arrive when the light was decent but before the crowds.
After studying the photos, I decided a new angle would give it a new look, and did this sketch.
The owner understood that it was just a rough sketch and knows that I can actually draw, so once he approved the sketch, I began.
First, I figured out the main dimensions, which is lots of math and measuring.
Then I moved into getting it laid out on the paper. (This is 14×17”.)
Finally, I began shading in the upper left hand corner so that my hand won’t drag the graphite all over the paper.
Then I schlepped my self back to the house to collapse in a chair and wait for the most totally excellent husband, AKA Trail Guy, to tell me that dinner was ready. As is often the case, I spent the evening questioning my ability to accomplish this drawing, to capture all the detail, to do as good a job as when I could see without a magnifying glass over the table.
As is often the case, I also questioned my pricing, but this is Tulare County, and I’m not about to “gouge” my customers! What constitutes gouging? I dunno. Locals say my prices are high; people from far away say they are low.
Maybe owner #4 will provide some dark chocolate with the final payment.
This is the title of a very good book about Mineral King, written by a cabin guy who began working at the pack station at age 12.
Last Saturday Kevin Alltucker spoke at the annual Mineral King Preservation Society’s Picnic in the Park. Great storyteller, excellent speaker, knew how to reach the crowd and handle a microphone. He took lots of questions, and he quit before we were tired of hearing him. (The bulk of the crowd was behind and around me.)
I think you ought to buy a copy of the book. Really!
Too bad you weren’t there in person; it was $15 that day, instead of $18. No problemo—I’m confident that you can afford the extra $3.
Wildflower
Meanwhile, I continued to wrestle with my iPhone14 and got these photos of a flower that was at the end of the Blue/Purple chapter in Mineral King Wildflowers (sold out, so sorry, but not terribly sorry because there might be another book coming next summer…)
The panel isn’t made out of sequoia wood; the panel is made out of ?? wood, and I am painting a sequoia tree on it. Sequoia gigantea is the official name for the redwood trees in Sequoia National Park, not the redwoods of northern California, called Sequoia sempervirens. Those are tall; ours are thick.
Two wooden panels with sequoia trees sold quickly this summer. I poked around in the garage and found a larger panel with a sky blue background already painted on it. It seemed too big, but then I figured, “Why not?” After inquiring with the manager of the Silver City Store whether or not she had room, she said to paint it and bring it up the hill.
I opened the big doors to the painting workshop and propped the panel against my two easels. This was great in theory, but the morning sun is very strong and very hot on this area. Oh well, I’ve soldiered through heat many times in my life in Central California, AKA The Central Valley, AKA the San Joaquin Valley. Let’s just git-‘er-dun!
Here is the sloppy beginning.
Shade is creeping down the top of the panel, providing hope that perhaps I didn’t begin too early in the day.
Never mind. I was hotting to death out there, so I went back to the house for some cold water and a cooling break. Even the deer were smart enough to be in the shade, and I was too hot to yell, “GET OFF MY LAWN!” (Yes, that is my lawn, which is more like a meadow since, per my request, it doesn’t get mowed all summer in the hopes that it will become thicker; it might be working, now in year 5 of this unconventional landscaping approach.)
Slightly refreshed, I returned to the job and painted until I couldn’t stand the heat anymore. Besides, I had a lunch date with 3 friends in Three Rivers, which is a bit of a big deal to me. Eating out isn’t a regular part of my life.
Infomercial
My friends chose the River View. It has been about 7 or 8 years since I was there, and it is now on owner #3 since then. It always puzzles me to see how crowded it is, with cars lining the road, more cars than it seems they will have tables and chairs for. A driver needs to creep very very slowly past that place, because of the great crowds. Well, River View AND Reimer’s Candies. . . almost next door to one another.
We ate outside, where there were misters, fans, and shade. It was noisy (the fans). The food was fine, but it wasn’t Sierra Subs or Tony’s Taverna. The service was good. And I was shocked by how expensive lunch was—I spent $26 just for me. A turkey melt (I ended up pulling off the non-descript white bread and setting it aside) with sweet potato fries, the only fried food I like. Had to really load up on vegetables later that day.
Yikes. No wonder I don’t eat out much. (Sierra Subs is my go-to choice in case you were wondering.)
Thus we conclude this infomercial for eateries in Three Rivers.
50 years ago today I got medevacked* off Sawtooth.
A group of high school kids were on a backpacking trip in Mineral King, a week long loop. We were fully chaperoned by experienced adults, age 32. (Why does that no longer seem like an adult age??)
We camped at Columbine Lake below Sawtooth with a layover day planned. A group wanted to climb Sawtooth on the next day, and although I was tired and a bit afraid, I chose to go. My dear cousin Ruthie was part of the group and I didn’t want to be left out or let people know that I was a chicken.
The leaders wanted to try a new route up Sawtooth. Meant nothing to me, because I was just following along.
That was foolish. We were climbing up a chute, and following someone up a chute makes you vulnerable to falling rocks.
Sure enough, I got blammed** in the forehead by a falling rock knocked loose from above, saw it coming, and had no place to go or time to move. According to the eyewitnesses, I summersaulted 50-60 feet down the chute causing more rocks to fall, thinking the entire time, “I have to stop, I have to stop!”
When I stopped, I wiggled my feet to be sure I wasn’t paralyzed, realized I still had my contact lenses in, and that there was blood running down my face.
The leaders above got everyone down carefully. I remember saying to Jerry Peters as he passed by, “Don’t look at me; my face is all bloody.” Thanks, Captain Obvious, and why did I care if Jerry saw blood all over my face?
Mr. Leader stayed with me, and Mrs. Leader got everyone back down to Columbine Lake. The biggest strongest boy, Matt Moffett, got chosen to run to Mineral King for help. He ran the 8 or 10 miles to a crank phone in the Sawtooth parking lot, where he called for help. (I still have no idea how a crank phone works or who he called.)
This is not a crank phone, but it’s the only phone picture I have.
Eventually a helicopter arrived, and a few people and gear were unloaded. I remember it having trouble figuring out where to land, and that it made several trips. I also remember that Mr. Leader was shivering, because at one point during our wait it hailed a little bit. I finally told him to take his jacket back because no matter how many layers I had, I continued to shiver. Shock, I think.
There was a gurney, ropes, helmets, lots of people with rock-climbing vocabulary. According to Mr. Leader, rocks still fell occasionally as they moved me onto the gurney and into the helicopter. The inside, not the outside.
We flew to Ash Mt. where an ambulance was waiting. It wasn’t until then that I gave them my parents’ phone number, because what were they going to do knowing I was injured but inaccessible?
It was upsetting to have them cut the legs of my new jeans, and it was thrilling to know that we ran the 4-way stop on Highway 198 (this was pre-traffic light, but everyone still calls that intersection toward Exeter “The Four Way”).
Broken collarbone, lots of cuts and bruises, 2 black eyes (I didn’t let my Dad take a photo, and now I sort of regret it out of curiosity, but not too much),and a hematoma on my leg merited one night in the hospital. It was hard to walk, and eventually I figured out why: I had major blisters on my heels that prevented my feet from going flat on the floor. Those stupid hiking boots were brutal, but everyone wore them. Give me Crocs anyday over those beastly immovable ankle weights.
These boots weren’t really made for walking; it was a marketing scheme.
Matt was taken in by one of the cabins on the parking lot and fed enormous amounts of food, which he reported barfing up afterward. He became my boyfriend during my senior year in high school, a good guy, but we weren’t a match made to go the distance. (A 16-year old is not wise enough nor ready to choose a lifemate.)
While in college, I returned to climb Sawtooth with a group of friends. We took the conventional route, it clouded up when we got on top so there was no view down to the valley, and it was so scary that I sat down and cried. One of the guys had a rope with him and helped me back down with the rope around my waist while he kept me secure (Thank you, Doug!!)
Sawtooth. It’s good to paint and draw and see from Visalia as a landmark, but other people are welcome to climb it. I prefer to go to White Chief or the Franklin/Farewell junction.
P.S. Mr. and Mrs. Leader have remained part of my life, dear friends with whom I correspond regularly and love like family (minus squabbles that sometimes accompany family relationships).
P.P.S. Trail Guy doesn’t like Sawtooth either. We are a match made to go the distance.
The carpenter brought ”Aunt Em’s” completed stained glass window to the house to install it.
More decisions: facing the garden or facing the laundry room? Hang inside or outside?
Trail Guy and I had both thought that outside made the most sense. Not sure why, but since we were in agreement, it felt like the right choice.
I spend more time in the herb garden than the laundry room, so we made it face outward.
Here it is from the backside of the window, inside the laundry room.
Here is proof that I do actually grow some useful herbs in the herb garden.
One last look, from inside the laundry room because the light shows it off better from this side.
“Aunt Em” doesn’t have any relatives that I know how to reach, other than Cousin Ruthie in Colorado (RUTHIE! ARE YOU READING THIS??) and another cousin who seems to change cities and countries each time I hear from him. They both lived far away and probably didn’t get to know their great aunt or even notice that she had a stained glass window over her front door, so I don’t think they’d mind that it is now hanging over my herb garden.
Upon reflection, admiring that window as a child probably influenced my bent toward becoming an artist. Thank you, “Aunt Em”!!
One last thought: I can’t remember what her house looked like other than it was a charming light green cottage. I would dearly love to see a photograph of it.
When I was a child, “Aunt Em” lived next door to my Great Aunt Mary in Three Rivers. She was a retired teacher, a “spinster” in the vernacular of the day, probably a bit eccentric. She had designed her own home and filled it with antiques. When we were allowed to visit her, we sat on the edge of the “davenport”, under strict instructions from Mom: “DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING!”.
Aunt Em’s house was the cutest house I’d ever seen, complete with a stained glass window over the front door. The window was a wonder to me, one of the most beautiful things I’d ever seen. Houses in orange groves where we lived didn’t have special touches like that.
When Trail Guy and I began house hunting in Three Rivers, I wished we could find and buy Aunt Em’s house. I couldn’t figure out where it went, and besides, riverfront property was way out of our price range. A few years after landing at our place, Mom and I went for a walk. She expressed a desire to see Aunt Mary’s old house, and as we were lingering in the road in front of it, someone came outside of the house on what used to be Aunt Em’s property.
It now had a giant fancy new house where Aunt Em’s house had been. The owner was gracious and offered to show us the house. She had an album of photos of their “remodel” project. All I cared about was the location of the stained glass window, and she said she wasn’t sure, but it might be under their deck.
WHAT??? Have you no sense of beauty??
Many years passed, and this spring I learned that the owners had aged out of the property. A casual friend was living there in order to get the house ready for the people’s daughter to sell. I asked if she would look under the deck to see if there was a stained glass window. She said she’d been all over and under the house, and the only stained glass window was hanging from the deck roof. She said it was fragile, but I wanted to come see it anyway. She started to give me directions to the house, which then made us both laugh.
THAT’S IT!! It might have been 55 years or more since I’d seen it, but I knew that window.
My friend asked the owners’ daughter if I could buy it; the daughter said I could have it! HAVE it?! Wow.
We got it in the car with great manipulative skills (my friend is a bit of a genius), and I brought it home to stash in the painting workshop until I figured out what to do with it.
The frame was wobbly, some of the glass missing, many pieces cracked, and it was bigger than I expected.
Trail Guy and I walked around the house, trying to figure out if there was a place for it. The only possible spot was in front of the big window in the laundry room, overlooking the herb garden.
Another friend recommended a talented furniture maker and cabinet builder, who sometimes hangs around next door. When I saw his truck, I trotted over to tell him the story. He was charmed by it all, and agreed to repair and reinforce the window.
We found old wood for the frame in our garage (Trail Guy is a Saver), which had little flecks of paint on it that matched the window. He loaded everything in his utility truck (much less tricky than in MomsCar), and began the work.
It involved many decisions, and I was surprised by two things: how very careful and thorough the carpenter was, and by how little I cared about all those decisions. Often I told him that I trusted him to make the right choices, and that I was so happy to have the window that the all those decisions were irrelevant to me.
He had to make a pattern for 2 missing pieces. There used to be a stained glass workshop in Visalia, but it is long gone, so I went for structure rather than matching stained glass and had clear window glass custom cut, also in Visalia. (At the time I was making multiple trips down the hill for all the cellphone hassles.)
He called me to come see it and make a final decision. My first glimpse almost brought a tear to my eye, overwhelmed by the beauty, nostalgia, and gratitude for finding and then being given the window.
This is too long. I’ll tell you the rest next time.
The idea was to hike somewhere during my most recent stay in Mineral King, but instead, I just hung out at the cabin with a few forays out to attempt to photograph a few wildflowers. I also ventured out to photograph a cabin to draw, but in case the cabin owner is one of my tens of readers, I won’t be sharing that info. It’s ‘posed to be a surprise. So, this post is another glimpse into cabin life.
We looked inside the Honeymoon Cabin, which is a mini museum for the Mineral King Preservation Society. It is tiny, but the phone-camera makes the room look spacious. I’m guessing it is about 10×12’.
I’ve been confused by the name of a flower: rein orchis? rein orchid? It depends on which wildflower book you are reading. I found this in a very old wildflower book.
We had to check on a friend’s cabin because he couldn’t get there and needed to learn about a potential propane leak. While Trail Guy poked around, I did too.
A great deal of knitting took place, which was good, because last week I learned that the sweater I’m making for a friend was too small, so three weeks of knitting hit the frog pond*. (If you are a knitter, you may be aware of the sad fact that swatches lie.)
Hey Reader Kathy W., this photo of Sawtooth is for you.
It took many attempts to get these photos because I can’t seem to figure out how to force my iPhone 14 to focus on what I choose. It has a mind of its own. Yes, I have tapped on the thing I want focused, but it just sits there obstinately blurry, waiting for me to press the shutter.
This was along the road.
It was mostly uneventful—I vacuumed the cabin, swatted biting flies, did some sketching for the commission, scratched fly bites, visited with many cabin neighbors, sprayed more insect repellent just in case it might discourage the flies, split a little wood, scratched more, and finished reading two books: Mostly What God Does by Savannah Guthrie, and Communion: Finding my Way Back to Faith by J.D. Vance. Both of those deserve 5 stars.
And thus we conclude another report on cabin life in Mineral King.
It affirms that I am not wasting my life making things that no one needs or wants.
It provides an income, because life costs money.
Now let’s look at the pieces that have sold in the last several months, at Kaweah Arts, Stem & Stone, Exeter’s Mural Gallery, the Silver City Store, and through my website and people I know.
Three disclaimers:
Had I owned the new scanner when many of these were completed, they would look better here on your screen.
All paintings look better in person.
You have seen some of these already, since I often show you them in progress.
Thank you for sharing in my happiness, and remember:
USING PENCILS, OIL PAINT, AND MURALS, I MAKE ART YOU CAN UNDERSTAND, OF PLACES AND THINGS YOU LOVE, FOR PRICES THAT WON’T SCARE YOU.
P.S. Excuse me for shouting. Sometimes I get a little over-excited.
A faraway friend got a thrill and texted me about it.
She was in the downtown area of her town, went into a gift shop, and was floored to see two pencil drawings of Mineral King. Upon recognizing them, she took some photos and texted me.
These were reproduction prints which used to be my “bread and butter” type art. It was almost automatic when I finished a new drawing to get it printed, sign, number, package, and sell it.
I guess someone who lives 700 miles away got tired of these two drawings and somehow they ended up in this gift shop.
This is Beulah, which was the historic name of Mineral King. The collage was done using historic photos, and these prints didn’t sell nearly as well as drawings of current scenes. It is priced at $295!!
That’s okay. I get tired of the art hanging on my walls and rotate it out. Unless it is my own painting. Wait, I do pull those off the walls if they seem appropriate for a particular show or a potential customer has expressed an interest.
This is my first version of Farewell Gap with the Crowley Family cabin. I’ve drawn it many times since, and if you look at the drawings in chronological order, the growth is evident. (The growth of the artist’s skill, not those trees, one of which is now history.) This is priced at $150 or maybe $195—my spy was so excited that she forgot the amount!
The shop owner was quite thrilled; having someone recognize the subject and the artist validated her selection of merchandise.
Thank you, ‘70s Ranger Daughter Mari for discovering this “vintage cabin art”!! And thank you for getting in touch to tell me the story and sharing your photos!
