Spectrum went out. This means no internet, no landline, no teevee, and only a single bar of cellphone for texting. There was a Spectrum outage, but our trouble started a day before that and is probably our modem. Things wear out quickly, it seems. It might be repaired on Tuesday morning. A technician is supposed to come to replace the modem, but I’ll believe it when it happens.
So, if you don’t hear from me, if you comment and nothing appears, if you try to call and get a message about “no voice mail set up” or some such robo-talk, or if you email and don’t get a response, that is why.
I can receive texts. Not putting that number here on the interwebs, so I’ll trust that those of you I know in real life will know how to reach me.
An internet friend, Michelle, has added a page to her blog listing all the blogs she reads. She listed this one! I’m so honored to be included. These are some excellent bloggers, who post regularly, have good stories and good humor and good wisdom and good photos. After blogging for 18 years, it is a real pleasure to make the acquaintance of others who have also stuck it out. Her website is MG Doodle Studio, and the page is simply called Blogs I Love.
2. In late July on two consecutive days right around 5:45, we heard a tree fall on the slope above our cabin. The Farmer asked if I knew why they fell, and of course I said, “because they were dead”. Nope. It was hot out, the trees sucked up a ton of water from the soil, became top-heavy and toppled. (Yes, of course I believe him!) We didn’t go scrambling around to try and find the trees to verify, but I am 99% certain they were red firs.
3. There is another website besides Thriftbooks that will buy used books, and this one accepts textbooks. Nope, I don’t have any, but maybe you or someone you know does. The site is called World of Books, web address sell.worldofbooks.com.
4. That big panel with a sequoia tree painted on it sold to someone who lives far away. It is the Silver City Store’s responsibility to ship it, thank goodness! What did I learn? To say, “Take it to the UPS store down the hill and charge the customer.” (And blessings on the customer, who wanted it that badly! —are we related??)
5. New cars are ridiculously complex: no key—just a fob and a push button; they shut off at long traffic lights; they might not have a radio but are too complicated for me to know for sure; cruise control is hidden somewhere; the parking brake is a weird little button that couldn’t possibly hold the vehicle back; the gear shift is almost completely camouflaged into the deep blackness of the interior. If my current 2004 feels a bit too fancy for me, what in the world am I going to do when it is worn out? “Don’t worry about tomorrow, for today has enough troubles of its own”, that’s what Imma do.
5. Have you ever visited the site Food.com? I learned that the site actually has a recipe for ice cubes. “How stupid”, I can hear you thinking (because I had the same thought). If you want to waste some time having fun on the interwebs, go to that page and read the comments!
Every Drop, pencil drawing, approximately 14×16”, matted and framed, $400
6. I finally learned the population of Three Rivers. It isn’t listed on the sign at the lower end of town, which does give the elevation. However, if you approach Three Rivers from Sequoia National Park on the upper end of town, it gives the population as 2600. I don’t actually believe it; with so many vacation homes and vacation rentals in town, how can the census bureau get a real number? They can’t.
7. Christian music ahead, so skip if this offends you. Do you ever obsess on a song, wanting, no, NEEDING to hear it over and over and over? (I loved the repeat button on my old car stereo.)
A. I heard a new one, called “His Mercy is More”, and I can’t get enough. I listened to several versions, flipped out over one in particular, and learned that the 2 singers, both named Matt, are the writers of the song. Piano, guitar, 3/4 time, perfection. It sounds Celtic, although one Matt is from Texas and the other maybe from Florida.
B. Another new one (thank you, Elisabeth!) “Yet Not I But Through Christ in Me” just slays me. I listened to it over and over all the way down the Mineral King Road and then still needed to hear it more. The group City Alight, whom I have never heard of before, sings it in the link above.
8. Friendships: Have you heard of the “Five-Year Stranger Theory”? This is something I’ve thought about for years, but didn’t have a name for it. In theory, we could be in touch with everyone we’ve known our entire lives. It would be impossible to stay current with that many people. The Five-Year Stranger Theory comes from Amanda Burback, a licensed marriage and family therapist and founder of Mellow Therapy in Los Angeles. It espouses the idea that people tend to fade from our lives after about five years, unless we are in one another’s immediate circle.
9. Aging Well On a new blog that I sampled, the first entry had a list of five things that mean a person is aging well. If you are curious, this is the link: The Sandcastle-Blowing in the Wind. She includes the link to the source where she first saw the complete list of seven things. (In case you are curious, I appear to be aging well if you disregard the wrinkles and gray hairs.)
10. The Frugal Girl did a nice thing for her readers who also blog: on one post, she asked any of her blogging readers to post links to their blogs in the comments. It’s been fun reading new ones, learning about who we refer to as “The Commentariat”. Nice group of folks, and it is surprising to start counting up the ones I have connected with via email and tangible ways. (True confession: I suggested it to her after she wrote about her blogging process.)
11. A dear and extremely generous friend GAVE ME A CAMERA!! I will be learning about this for many months ahead.
A. It is “an entry level mirrorless camera”. Mirrorless means it is not SLR (Single lens reflex, in Film Camera lingo) so it weighs less and has a smaller body.
B. Camera cases appear to be a thing of the past. Now you can buy overpriced little suitcases for your camera and all its many parts. (I’ll pass on that.)
C. All manuals are online. Apparently Canon wants me to use my own ink and paper, or to carry around a phone to read the manual on. This is a no-go in Mineral King, the Land of No Electricity, Phones, or Internet. (Nope, not going to get StarLink because I can barely manage the iPhone and the new camera and the old camera and all the extra batteries and charging devices. Just STOP IT with all the electronics, upgrades, updates, immediacy and urgency!!)
12. My internet friend Elisabeth posted about her day in Bristol, England, the home of the elusive, prolific, eccentric genius artist Banksy. (The first time I heard of this guy was in Bethlehem, Israel in 2016.) Here is a place to learn a bit more about him: Banksy vs. Bristol Museum.
What is wrong with me lately? The inner lazy chick seems to be winning.
A dear friend gave me a fantastic camera, one that she said she tried and hated. We are very different in that instead of returning the camera, she hung onto it. (I would have sent it back.) She is very generous, and I benefited.
It’s fancy and complicated and intimidating, so I understand why she hated it. However, I am not pleased with my iPhone 14, nor am I pleased with my little PHD* camera.
My almost 9 year old friend and I had a great time learning some basics with it.
I taught her that the first thing ALWAYS is to put the strap around your neck. Then we discussed zooming in and out, moving to where the things you want are visible on the screen.
We both love Crocs.
She asked to photograph Empire, I said of course, and we talked about where to stand for the clearest view.
Later when she was off running around with some people closer to her in age, I experimented with close-up shots. Focusing is a trick, so I have to put on reading glasses. This is quite annoying, but less so than giving up contact lenses and wearing bifocals.
Ever looked at sap up close? I called it pitch, and Little Friend told me it was sap. I could look it up, but I don’t care that much.
The yellowish stuff with berries is a kind of mistletoe that grows on conifers, particularly red fir trees in our part of the world.
Little Friend always wants to visit the horses and mules at the pack station, and she requested use of the camera. I complied, after reminding about the strap around the neck. I don’t know who took which photos, but these are the two I chose to keep for use here.
This is a currant. Trail Guy loves them; Little Friend agrees with me in thinking they don’t taste like much. She was happy to take this photo as we experimented with close-up shots.
A cone flower had a bee , but by the time I got the lens cap off, turned the camera on, moved the lens forward (it stores close into the body of the camera) and chose my focal length, the insect had buzzed off. It will take awhile for these tasks to become habitual.
“Meat bees” are very active at the end of the summer, along with being aggressive. When we eat outside, they appear. When we just hang around outside, they appear. They are most likely a wasp, although we all call them “meat bees”. (If you get stung, a paste of baking soda and water will take the pain away.) I took some photos hoping to be able to identify them in the book of all Sierra Nevada info by John Muir Laws. This one was sort of settled on a neighbor’s outdoor table, but instead of getting close, I used the mildly telephoto lens and then cropped out most of the tablecloth.
Bearskin on the side of Vandever Mt. is becoming more of a rooster or perhaps just a chicken. Will it make it through the summer? We never know until the end of the season.
Crowley Family Cabin and Farewell Gap
Have another peek through the historic juniper in the parking lot.
Prolly didn’t help, but I was a little camera-happy. The verdict is that this camera is superior to the PHD in photo quality, way less convenient, very complicated and challenging, and that I am quite happy to be the recipient of such a generous and unwarranted gift and plan to get comfortable using it.
It wasn’t a complete do-nothing weekend. I had great times with Little Friend, learned some about the camera (although I didn’t take any of the extra lenses or filters along), finished a book (The Inbetween Days by Eva Woods), started and finished an Ann Patchett novel that was new to me (Run), finished knitting Little Friend’s birthday present (in May she told me that she has outgrown all the sweaters that I’ve made for her), spent time catching up with next-door-neighbor friends on their annual visit, cleared off 2 shelves in the cabin kitchen of unnecessary items, cleared more downed limb wood, and wrote a letter to an old friend.
That’s cabin life when one doesn’t feel like hiking (stupid neuropathy) and there is enough firewood split for a while.
With the exception of Jeff’s Garden (a commissioned oil painting) and painting a giant sequoia on a wooden panel, I have not painted this summer. This was planned, not accidental. The swamp cooler in the workshopo is loud, fairly inadequate for our summer heat, and has been springing leaks all summer.
Kaweah Arts, a great art gallery/gift shop in Three Rivers, sold more paintings than I anticipated this summer, and other than one backup 6×18” sequoia oil painting, I have no inventory for them. Therefore, it is time to evaluate which sizes and subject matter are selling the best and choose new subjects accordingly.
River, lake, sequoia tree, river, lake, sequoia tree, river. . . Not exactly like that but close enough that I can read the tea leaves, so to speak. Sure, I’d like to paint yarn, iris, a cat, a favorite cabin window, and other everyday items that float my boat, but Mama didn’t raise no fool. (That’s three clichés in one paragraph!!)
My physical photos are arranged in a miniature filing cabinet, and of my 37,000 photos on the laptop, many are set aside in folders to consider painting for my various vendors. I prefer to sell in gift shops instead of non-existent galleries… non-existent around here. As a regionalist from Quaintsville who only paints what I know (except for those very welcome commissions from Anywhere, USA because overseas shipping is out of my league), I’ll let those fancy far-away galleries full of educated ArtWorld city folk do their own thing without me.
Here’s how it looks as I choose the most likely candidates for new paintings and pair them to canvases, all small sizes because they need to be packable for those travelers.
I know you must be curious about the wooden box of tools. I salvaged 3 drawers from an abandoned art studio that was about to be demolished, and they work well enough in this shelf of cubbies that was about to be demolished, which fit perfectly in our workshop where I paint, Trail Guy putters, and the cats spend their nights. (Are you starting to see a pattern in how I accumulate furniture and tools?)
Do you like this table? It is about 32” square, solid wood, the top needs refinishing, and if you want to own it, come get it. A friend (who isn’t as obsessed as I am with not wasting old things) wanted it to go away, and now I need to find a home for it.
First I put on the D-rings. Next, the wires, my worst favorite part. Ever notice that those pliers which are supposed to cut wire only work the first 3-4 times you use them for that purpose?
Alrighty then, seven canvases, all numbered, wired, and ready for the first layer of oil paint.
I finally no longer stress about how ugly the paintings look on the first layer. (Only took twenty years)
Lake, river, oak tree, sycamore tree. (Please please, kind tourists, allow me to paint other trees besides sequoias!)
River, sequoias, Alta Peak
Obviously, I didn’t follow the formula that appears in title of this post. Local folks sometimes want our landmarks rather than the usual tourist choices. Sometimes people ask where I get my inspiration. First, I want to paint what sells because I came here to earn a living and not have to be a secretary or a waitress. Life costs money, particularly if you choose to drive old vehicles.
Second, I love photography, mixing colors, figuring out composition, eliminating the messy stuff, and creating pictures that remind people of the good stuff of Tulare County, right here in the heart of California’s flyover country. (But remember, don’t move here because we are all fat, have diabetes, high unemployment, the worst educated city in all of the entire country as our county seat, bad air, and no Trader Joe’s.)
And that is the answer to “Hey Central California Artist, what are you working on these days?”
The side view of my studio isn’t nearly as cute as the front view.
Odd Job
My friend G explained that he just needs an outline of what might pass for the tops of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, stretched across a single 12 foot panel. Jimmy delivered four for some unknown reason.
First, we flipped the panel around so that the rustiest part was showing. While G was explaining, I got out some chalk and started drawing. G had a few comments, and I finished drawing before he finished talking. Easy peasy.
I suggested that he have Jimmy cut along my line with his plasma cutter, then see how it looks in place and see if his customer is happy. If not, either cut a bit more, or have me draw it again on another panel.
After G left, I went spelunking in my flat files. (That’s how I found the colored pencil drawing of my sister’s neighbor’s car.)
Old Job
I found this project, from 2000 when I was learning colored pencil and portraiture at the same time. It wasn’t a success. The girl on the right was actually drawn using a different photo, and neither one looked quite like herself.
I thought about what I would tell me drawing students: turn it upside down, study every shape and evaluate EXACTLY how it looks. After an hour or two, I decided that it was good enough.
The color is dreadful. It wasn’t worth fetching the laptop and going through all the steps to scan. So I photographed it one more time and sent it to the girls’ mom. She was my first friend in Three Rivers and has encouraged and pushed me to try hard things for 27 years!
No difference in the photography. I might end up scanning it. Prolly give it to one of the girls. The one on the right still lives in town and I believe she is 35 years old now.
Holy guacamole.
P.S. The mom didn’t respond to my text and I no longer pretend that I can do portraiture or colored pencil well.
My friend G is building a pool or pond or something for some people in Three Rivers. He has a vision of a corrugated metal wall with the shape of the mountains cut at the top of the wall. He said the wall would be about 8 feet, and asked if I could draw the mountains at the top so that someone else could use a plasma cutter on the metal.
I said yes.
Then the someone else, let’s call him Jimmy because that is his name, brought over 4 sheets of rusty corrugated metal, each one 12’ in length.
Umm, G, you will need to instruct me. Are these sheets going to stack on one another horizontally? Will they be placed side-by-side vertically? Do you want the same thing drawn on each one in case Jimmy makes a mistake? Or are we working with a 48’ wall?
G sent me some instructions that could be interpreted multiple ways. I suggested that he come to my studio so we could iron out the important details.
Besides, I have four different options for mountain shapes.
Interesting that the most difficult part of the job might be getting clear instructions! The good news is that there is no deadline.
The thoughts continue; is this part of being in one’s sixties?
We (personally speaking) have become accustomed to losing our cats to wildlife—goodbye Jackson; you were rude and demanding and bossy and domineering, and you didn’t listen when I told you there would be consequences for ignoring Kitty Curfew.
We are now accustomed to words like “atmospheric river”, “rain events”, “phone tree”, “hydrate”, and “interface”. These things used to be “storm”, “rain”, “switchboard”, “drink”, and “talk”.
We have become accustomed to appliances and electronics giving up at around six years, if we are fortunate to have them last that long.
We are accustomed to being told that things “aren’t reparable”, that there are no longer parts or people who know how to fix things.
We have become accustomed to putting our own groceries on the conveyer belt, bagging them ourselves using bags we brought from home, and schlepping them out to our vehicles. In some cases we actually do our own scanning rather than place them on a conveyer belt. (Remember when grocery checkers had to announce the price of every single item?)
We have become accustomed to everyone being a photographer with cameras available at all times, along with instant gratification of seeing the photos. Remember when we didn’t know how our photos would turn out until we picked them up at a store a week or two later? (I was considered a bit odd because I always had 2 cameras with me—one with black and white film, the other with color, or occasionally with slide film. I might still be considered a bit odd—just be polite.)
In Three Rivers, we have become accustomed to lizards in the house, deer eating many of our plants, coyotes yipping and howling, and turkeys hanging out in the yard.
We have become accustomed to typographical errors, misspellings, and poor grammar, even among those who speak publicly for a living. Nope, it’s not “have went” —it is “have gone”; we don’t “graduate school” —we graduate FROM school; you aren’t “gifted something” —you are GIVEN something, and it isn’t “me and my wife” —it is “my wife and I”.
We have become accustomed to not licking stamps or envelopes, just peeling off backing instead.
We are accustomed to carrying water bottles everywhere (remember drinking fountains?) and wearing seatbelts (remember riding in the bed of a pickup?)
Anyone need a break from all these heavy thoughts? Let’s have another ad for another oil painting.
Since I saw moving purple spots last time I tried to hike, the next time I went up the hill, I stayed closer to the cabin. Perhaps it was just an excuse to be lazy; on the other hand, maybe I was using my noggin.
I left home around 8:30. It now takes me almost 2 hours to get the approximately 26 miles to the cabin, so an early-ish start is beneficial to having a not-too-hot drive and getting there with enough time to have a full day. It’s been awhile since I photographed my favorite bridge, 6.5 miles up the road.
It wasn’t an entirely do-nothing stay. Our wood stove supply was getting low; Trail Guy tossed a bunch of chunks toward my chopping block and said, “There! That ought to keep you busy for awhile.” I said, “Half an hour, tops”. Good guess. Prolly took just as long to stack it.
We walked to Crystal Creek, and then a little farther. (No moving purple spots—thank you for your concern.)
First, a stop at the pack station. Trail Guy likes to make sure the water troughs are full.
The old pack station building is a disaster. If anyone points this out to The Park, I guarantee that the answer will be “We are short staffed”. My inclination is to say, “Get off your duff and off your screen and get your patoot out into your areas of responsibility and for Pete’s Sake, DO SOMETHING!” I wisely am keeping my yap shut.
Next stop: the creek where the packers used to cross with their strings of mules. Yeppers, the water is low. It’s August.
Onward.
I still marvel that Crystal Creek has held to its new course after 2023.
I opted out on the off trail stuff because of the the meat bees, which make nests in the ground.
Instead, I inspected a few things, experimented with the iPhone as a camera, trying to understand how to get it to focus.
FungusLichenAsterYarrowsulphur flower (dying)
These are cottonwood trees; the iPhone called them “poplars”. Maybe they are in the same family.
Back to the cabin, and no, this is not our cabin. I don’t show our cabin, because this is the World Wide Web, and we are already inundated with visitors, all friends, but inundation is inundation. (You may quote this piece of brilliance).
It was a short stay. I missed Tucker, and he missed me.
Today’spost is a long list of thoughts that occur to me while drawing in silence (if you don’t count the monotonous hum of the barely adequate A/C) and solitude. I decided to skip photos, so it is possible you will decide to skip reading. I will assume the risk of this.
We have become accustomed to hateful phone-calls with robots, non-native English speakers who read scripts, and fighting through a “phone-tree” to find a human who can address whatever our needs are.
We have become accustomed to relying on things we don’t understand with companies who do not care about their customers, only their bottom line. (think phones, internet, appliance repair, health-care networks, insurance…)
We have become accustomed to unreachable doctors, lost files, missed messages, unreturned phone calls.
We have become accustomed to figuring out medical problems on our own or with the help of friends who have gone through similar situations.
We have become accustomed to contractors who don’t return phone calls, don’t show up, don’t follow through, and do shoddy work if they actually do show up.
We have become accustomed to seeing giant supports for a so-called “high-speed rail”, one that will serve no purpose, because who needs to go at a high rate of speed from Hanford to Modesto, or whatever other smallish cities in Central California?
We have become accustomed to delayed or cancelled flights, poor service, crowded seating, paying for luggage, no meal service.
We have become accustomed to people staring at and depending on screens rather than greeting one another and conversing while in public.
We have become accustomed to instant gratification, ordering anything we might need, do need or simply want and getting it within days.
We have become accustomed to coarse language, the everyday use of words formerly only seen on bathroom walls by people who used to show restraint now using bad language in public, and crude “jokes” by so-called comedians are the norm.
We have become accustomed to immodest dress—sorry to shock you, but leggings are NOT pants, and cleavage used to be saved for specific occasions rather than be considered normal and accepted.
Phew. Let’s look at something beautiful and timeless. (Have we become accustomed to bloggers self-promoting??)
“Let’s talk” is a euphemism for “I’ll do the typing and you do the reading”. But I welcome your comments, if you have the fortitude to fight through the commenting procedures.
Sister’s Neighbor’s Car, colored pencil, unfinished, drawing it just because I need to do something while catching up on podcasts.
Mom gave me her car last year. I reluctantly sold Fernando, and have been trying to appreciate having a newer vehicle, one with power (a 6 cylinder engine instead of a 4, albeit “turbo-charged”, it was a little wimpy, sorry Fernando). I’m doing my best to get used to an automatic, to adjust to a non-blue or green car, to accept the lack of sportiness in a 4-door.
BUT, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS A FREE CAR. Just saying. (Shouting, actually) The blower went out, which is the thing that sends A/C into your car (or heat or defrosting). I drove down to Visalia the earliest time possible to avoid the heat. Frank diagnosed the problem and said he’d have to order the new unit, which could take a day or two.
He drove me to Enterprise Rent-A-Car, and I proceeded to rent an all black Toyota Rav4. Couldn’t figure out how to start it, set the parking brake, or put it in gear, so I went back inside and asked for instructions. They tried to sell me a $33/day insurance policy, which I declined, figuring I’d just use the car to get home, where I’d park it safely in the garage until it was time to use it to retrieve Momscar.
Saw this in Frank’s shop and it made me chuckle a bit.
I drove it the 30 miles home, a little white-knuckled, with no idea how to operate the radio (prolly didn’t have one—just some sort of app to be used with the phone—forget it) and no idea how to use the cruise control. I learned that it is hard to hold a steady speed after years of cruise control.
I was doing fine, until the dang thing started beeping at me whenever I encountered a curve. In addition, the steering wheel went a little spastic at the same time. Oh shoot, maybe I should have paid for that insurance. I stopped at the bank on the way home, and the two women there told me that the beeping and wheel tremors are part of new car behaviors. Okay, just another reason to stick with old cars. (I stopped to make a deposit, not to get mechanical advice, but we are all friends; they asked me how I was doing, so I told them.)
When the car was safely in the garage, I came inside and saw that there was a message on the answering machine. Frank called to say that he found the part and the car was fixed! WHAT?? I got back in the rental and drove the 30 miles back to town.
That little excursion cost $75 dollars, and they didn’t even charge me for gas, which I was NOT going to spend an hour figuring out how to put in the tank, IF I could even figure out how to open the cap.
In addition to all this up-and-down-the-hill excitement, I showed Frank this photo to ask about the car that I lusted over felt so drawn to in Mineral King.
It’s a Scion, only made from 2013-2016, and it was a joint venture between Toyota and Subaru. Frank said that Subarus are advertised to be safe, not mechanically sound, and the parts are really expensive. Okay, never mind. Good to know.
Momscar felt pretty simple and good after my little excursion with that fancypants rental car.
P.S. I don’t like Detroit to do my shifting for me!
