Personal | Cabin Art

The Library of my Youth, Chapter 1

I grew up in the country, with the choice of asking Mom to drive me or riding my bike if I wanted to go somewhere. (One did not bother Dad, because he was working; we were Mom’s work.) She rarely denied me when I asked her to take me to the library 2-4 miles away (we moved closer when I was in 6th grade), which was (and is) very small.

It was a challenge to find new books to read in that tiny building, but I never gave up trying. We either didn’t know about or didn’t have the option of ordering books from other county libraries as we do now. And I remember the first time I went to the library in the big town instead of the little burg—it was mind-boggling in its enormity. So many books, so little time!

Over a year ago, I was asked to paint an outdoor mural on the library of my youth. Within a week, I drove there with sketch paper and a tape measure. I met the librarian, who turns out to be a close friend of my sister-in-law. (Welcome to Tulare County, and never talk bad about anyone!)

Immediately, I began scouring my memory for ideas, and without knowing the budget, I came up with 3 versions—each one emphasizing different aspects of that nondescript rural unincorporated town, and different sizes for pricing options.

Alas, the Asker didn’t return my phone calls. I saw him in person, he apologized, and then still didn’t follow up. So, I let go of that dream.

Several months later, the Arts Consortium put out a Call-To-Artists, for not one, but TWO murals on the library of my youth. WHAT?? That was supposed to be MY mural.

Allll-righty-then, at least I had a headstart. I designed a second one, did the best presentation sketch possible, and even wrote an (unasked for) explanation and a (also unasked for) heartfelt statement about why I am the most qualified for this particular project. I met the deadline, and then waited to hear when I could begin. (Can you say “overconfident”?)

The deadline to notify the winner came and went. Silence. I asked the Arts Consortium who got the job, and the reply was that the selection committee was unable to meet. More months passed, and I asked again. This time the answer was that the selection committee was unable to decide.

I gave up, let go, moved on, while wondering what in the world is wrong with organizations and why I allow them to waste my time. I lost the big Catholic church murals—might as well add this to the pile of missed opportunities, and make a note to just deal with individuals in the future, rather than large outfits.

Then, 14 months after I was asked to paint a mural on the library of my youth, the Arts Consortium emailed that I HAVE BEEN CHOSEN FOR THE JOB!!

Stay tuned to see the sketches, hear the explanations, and learn when it will begin.

Short Glimpse of Fall Color in Three Rivers

Fall in Three Rivers is often late, subtle, or hidden in smoke. Most of the trees are evergreens, whether a variety of oaks or even some conifers. Some of the deciduous trees are also oaks, and they simply have green leaves that fall off without any hooplah. That doesn’t stop me from hunting fall color. In fact, the few places of color really stand out against all the brown, green, and gray.

After a number of years living here, I know where to look for the prettiest colors. Here are a few of the autumn leaf displays that I anticipate each year.

Flowering pear with a small glimpse of a brilliant Chinese pistache in the distance

Crape myrtle (some special unnamed variety)

Redbuds make yellowleaves. (Yes, I know, “yellow leaves”, not one word, but it goes with “redbud” as one word.)

Chinese pistache are the champions of fall color in Three Rivers.

By the time this post goes live, many of these leaves will be gone.

Three Rivers

Old Drawing Leads to Family Reunion

This blog post is just a short report on a personal topic. Trail Guy and I attended a 99th birthday party for his great uncle. The invitation came over the phone, so I didn’t hear the address or the time. I knew Great Uncle lived next door to a friend’s house, which I drew a number of years ago, figuring that Trail Guy had the address in his head or written somewhere.

He asked me what time we needed to leave because I wanted to do two errands while we were down the hill. I thought that because it was a lunch party that it was at noon, so I did some calculating, built in a little buffer, and said “quarter to eleven”.

After the second errand, he said, “Now what do you want to do?” I said, “We have the right amount of time to find the house, because we don’t know which side of our friend they live on”. Indeed, more than plenty, because the party was at one! Oops.

I thought he had the address, and he thought I knew the time.

So we went to CACHE and spent some time looking at the exhibits and the art.

Drawn so long ago that the landscaping was different. (2008)

When we decided to head toward the party, I followed my memory to the house I had drawn. Alas, it had been 15 years, and the signature birch trees which were to be my landmark were nowhere to be seen. We drove around the block, and then parked near the house that I was fairly certain was the right one. (Silly me, all that assuming, and I even didn’t look at the drawing first either—simply relied on memory). A neighbor came out on one side and asked if we were lost. Turns out that we weren’t lost after all; the party house was on the other side of the house that I remembered. By then, all we had to do was watch to see where cars pulled up with people we knew.

Great Uncle’s wife of perhaps 10 years read a sweet poem she wrote, and then Great Uncle recited a poem he wrote. What a story: engaged, then broke up because he didn’t want to leave a fiancé behind when he served in WWII. They married other people, and when both were widowed, they reunited and finally got married.

This photo was completely unposed and does not do justice to this handsome couple.

After the toasts and poetry, Trail Guy and I joined up with his favorite cousin outside. Favorite Cousin’s son had driven his mom and her husband to the reunion. He and I sat on the edge of the pool with our feet in the cold water and got acquainted. He was a delight to talk with! He said something profound, that first he attributed to Banksy, and then after looking it up (EVERYONE has a phone), we decided his version was clearer and simpler.

Everyone wants to be an artist, but no one wants to learn to draw.
-Cousin Jake

P.S. Happy Birthday, Laurie!

pencil drawing

Back to Giant Forest or Too Many People

I went to Sequoia National Park twice in October because this place attracts people from all over the world, and it is ONLY ONE HOUR FROM THREE RIVERS!! I don’t go very often because we go to Mineral King, another fabulous part of Sequoia. But when Mineral King isn’t accessible, why not go to the main part of “The Park”, as we refer to it here in Three Rivers?

On Saturday, October 28, I was supposed to go to the Native Voices exhibit unveiling at the Three Rivers History Museum, but this lovely opportunity presented itself. (Besides I thought there would be too many people at the museum.)

Trail Guy and I headed up the Generals Highway with The Farmer and Hiking Buddy. Because we were with other people, I didn’t keep calling for a pullover to take photos even though the dogwood were really getting their fall colors. I have enough photos. (Maybe.)

Climbing Moro Rock is unmatchable in its awesomeness. There is this little nagging thing in the back of my mind that says one day either my feet won’t let this happen any more or The Park will decide that it isn’t safe and just shut it down. That would be tragic.

This time I didn’t take any pictures on the way up. (There were too many people.) What I find surprising is that each time I go, it feels unfamiliar, as in, “I don’t remember this stretch of steps”.

The smoke from the fires in Redwood Canyon was much stronger than 2 weeks previous.

Sawtooth is visible from the top of Moro Rock but none of the signs on the route up Moro Rock naming the peaks go that far south.

A week or so earlier, I learned about the Marble Fork bridge, just beyond Lodgepole. I’d seen it many times, but never paid attention because the Clover Creek bridge is bigger and more noticeable. The Marble Fork bridge has lots of parking, picnic tables, and easy access to the water, but not too many people. Why don’t more people stop here? Because it isn’t highly publicized or signed. Look at this fabulous piece of rock construction:

Look at this little fire tipi; there were several, because the Park has been doing mechanical thinning.

We drove to Wuksachi, with the intent to explore some of the trails around the large area. This was developed in the early ’90s to take pressure off Giant Forest; there are still at least as many people in Giant Forest. It has the museum, big parking lot, the Moro Rock/Crescent Road and all are the first area you come to that feels as if you have arrived.

Wuksachi had tremendous plans for expansion. More lodging, perhaps some little cabins were planned, but nothing has come to fruition. It has three sort of Motel-6-ish units, and a giant lodge (why “lodge” when there are no places to stay in that building?) with a gift shop, lounge area, bar, and restaurant with giant windows and a fireplace.

Wuksachi doesn’t have any redwood trees, and a lot of the area around has been burned. It has many meandering trails, lots of rustic bridges, and it connects to a trail that leads to Lodgepole or Twin Lakes. I’d never been on those trails, and didn’t know Clover Creek ran nearby, nor that you can walk to Lodgepole from Wuksachi. (We didn’t.) This bridge caught my eye because it looks as if it has been there for awhile, rather than the new (from the 1990s) ones throughout Wuksachi’s grounds.

Looking downstream from the bridge, I saw berries that were new to me.

They looked like pyracantha berries and tasted incredibly foul. (No, I didn’t eat one—just put my teeth in one briefly to see what it was like.)

Instead of eating at Wuksachi’s Pizza Deck as planned (too many people), we ate our backup picnic lunch on some abandoned and mostly broken picnic tables off in a sunny place. There are lots of large outdoor storage areas, probably intended for parking lots or more lodging, and they definitely didn’t have too many people.

Then we continued exploring on foot, and I was attracted to other bridges. This one was a driving bridge; the light didn’t seem right for good photos on those other footbridges. (I might need to go back again.)

There is still some road construction on the Generals Highway. On the way down we hit a red light beneath some black oaks with a few leaves beginning to turn their golden fall color.

We were hoping to look across the canyon to Admiration Point and then use binoculars to see if the Colony Mill Ranger Station is still standing.

I didn’t take a turn with the binoculars because I saw penstemon in bloom. Penstemon in late October?!

Admiration Point is across the canyon. I haven’t circled it on the photo; just know it is there.

Thus we conclude another day of not painting or drawing. Next week perhaps I will be more productive, artwise. But sometimes an artist needs a few field trips to refill the well.

Eleven New Things Learned in October

Long month; many new ideas, thoughts, trivia, and items of interest for you.

Old coffee grounds do NOT act as fertilizer; instead, the caffeine (yes, even in used grounds) acts as an herbicide. (I read this in a science magazine.) This could explain the poor growth in the planting bed by my front porch. . . 24 years of using an herbicide instead of fertilizer. . . oy vey.

2. The creature that I was certain is a vole is almost certainly a gopher, according to Trail Guy. None of the animal reference books at the cabin have gophers in them, so how was I to know? By asking Trail Guy instead of consulting the books, of course.

3. Have you heard the saying “Someone got a wild hair” to describe random or risky behavior? Turns out that the saying is “wild hare”; I wonder why an untamed rabbit causes people to go rogue.

Reading Rabbit is an educated bunny, not to be confused with a wild hare.

4. Did you know that very few people value their hubcaps? I’m certain there must be a study, a poll, or a survey that confirms this. I have sent photos of the found hubcaps to the place where Mineral King folks get their news, and NO ONE CARES. They recently went into the trash.

5. A friend of mine is frugal almost to the point of absurdity; I have learned many things from her through the years. (The Queen of Cheapa) A recent adventure in frugality was fixing her own tooth when a crown fell off. She bought dental cement online, rinsed with peroxide, dried the tooth, and reapplied her own crown. I wonder how long it will last; if I hear more, I will include it on another Learned List for you.

6. Enzyme cleaners in tablet form for contact lenses have become impossible to find. ‘Tis a mystery.

7. Everything is a process. Want insurance? Start making phone calls, working through “phone trees”, leaving messages, waiting. Want to do something with your phone? Start making phone calls, leaving messages, listening to robots lying to you about “your call is very important to us”. Need a medical appointment? Be prepared to be on hold, to hear multiple reassuring messages about how much “we care about your health”, and then plan on getting multiple phone calls to “preregister”, to “verify”, to “confirm”, and to “prepare”. My opinion is that everyone is overloaded with precautions that waste everyone’s time, all in the hopes of not getting sued. It all comes down to lawyers and insurance. Further, big companies are difficult to deal with.

8. If you switch cell phone providers, you have to get a A. transfer PIN, B. account number (which account #??), C. unlock your phone from the previous provider. I emboldened C because the new provider neglected to mention this and many hours were wasted on the phone with the new provider trying to establish the reason for the new phone’s inability to work. The phones are still locked after more wasted time with the old provider, our old nemesis Huge & Rude (and incomprehensible).(See #7 and then find our new vocabulary word on #10)

9. The Clover Creek Bridge in Sequoia National Park was NOT built by the Civilian Conservation Corps; it was built by a construction company before the CCCs came into the Park. Additionally there is another one like it that most people just fly over without actually seeing: the Marble Fork Bridge (the creek after it runs through Lodgepole campground). You can learn more about these bridges on Tulare County Treasures.

10. A friend sent me this most excellent new word: “ineptocracy”. (see item #7) Look at the definition, and see if you can relate: Ineptocracy (in-ep-toc’-ra-cy) – a system of government where the least capable to lead, are elected by the least capable of producing, and where the members of society least likely to sustain themselves or succeed, are rewarded with goods and services paid for by the confiscated wealth of a diminishing number of producers.

11. Here is a little gift of a link to a very touching story on Tim Cotton Writes: The Last Impala.

Perhaps you could use a peaceful seasonal image after all that information. I am happy to oblige.

I Have a New Friend

Glowing Pink, watercolor, Krista Fulbright

I have a new friend. Krista Fulbright is an artist, working in watercolor. She moved to Exeter from Missouri (or “Missour-uh”, as another friend pronounces the state) a handful of years ago.

We met at an event at Cache, and I was struck by her sincere sweetness. Sounds corny, but I mean it.

She initiated contact, asking to get together for plein air painting. I told her honestly that I don’t like this activity very much, maybe because whenever I paint this way people ask if I am planning on finishing the painting. Sometimes they say, “That doesn’t look like your regular work”.

Anyway, we had a good conversation, and her response to my declining her invitation was to laugh and say that she understood. She said that we could probably find something else to do together, and I said I was looking forward to it.

We emailed, talked on the phone, texted, and eventually made a plan to get together. She was wondering about reproducing her art, and I offered to share my scanner and knowledge of Photoshop Junior. This resulted in a fun afternoon together in my studio.

As Krista figures out how to earn a living with her art, we discuss different aspects of this squishy and nebulous type of business. I’ve been doing this full-time for 30 years, but I still don’t know much. Things that used to work for me just don’t any more. . . print ads (where??), mailing out postcards (at 51¢ per card just for postage?), art festivals (most cancelled), printing/packaging/selling notecards (who writes anymore??), selling at gift shops (almost all now closed). . . times keep changing quickly. (Anyone read Who Moved My Cheese?)

Together, we explore ideas and share information. I haven’t had many artist friends who are seriously pursuing a career of art. I know a lot of artists, several in cities with large populations, some who rely solely on Fakebook, and many who are hobbyists, or dabblers. Krista is serious, focused, and relentless in improving both her skills and her business.

Krista’s website is https://fulbrightarts.com. Her work is realistic and tight, a style that suits me. It is a privilege to call this hardworking, talented lady my friend.

Krista Fulbright

Some Signs of Fall

Fall is supposed to be a relief from the heat. Last week we hit the 90s, AGAIN. Although my mind has the facts of seasonal changes, doubt holds me hostage.

So, I was seeking signs of fall, anything for encouragement that summer wouldn’t last forever.

The redbud trees in our yard are getting some yellow leaves.

Two red branches are appearing at the top of my flowering pear by the studio.

The pyracantha berries are getting good color, and the mulberry is getting a touch of yellow in the leaves.

Pumpkin spice something, anyone?

Whatever Happened to. . . (Five items to satisfy your curiosity)

. . . the mural/graphics at the Three Rivers Historical Museum? You’ll have to attend the exhibit opening of Native Voices to see!

2. . . . the murals at the giant Catholic church in Visalia? After 13 months of much wrangling, negotiating, emails, phone calls, designs, rewriting of proposals, and rebidding, I withdrew my proposals. They’ll have to find someone else for this. (I’d show you my designs, but I don’t want anyone to kipe them.)

3. . . . the mural for a county library, mentioned back in August of 2022? Nothing. It was promised to me, then silence. A call to artists went out, I submitted my designs (because it expanded from one wall to two walls), then silence. The deadline for a decision passed (May 31), and the silence continues.

4. . . .my overgrown unmowed lawn? After the 5th summer of not mowing, hand trimming, transplanting, and fertilizing, it is looking quite nice. Now that it is mowed, I can see the gaps, and next year I will continue to transplant clumps as I find them at the back of the house where there used to be lawn.

5. . . . my gardening efforts once I started using an expensive humus, Deer Out, and milorganite fertilizer? Things look moderately better, although not magnificent. (Let’s remain in Realville, people!) This is the herb garden, fenced against deer, many plants with underground baskets against gophers, very poor soil, direct hot sun in summer, and zero sun in winter.

Any questions?

Murals Three Rivers Historical Museum three rivers museum

When I Get Older. . .

“. . .Will you still need me, Will you still read me, When I’m sixty-four?”

Because I am now.

Neither Trail Guy nor I had been to the main part of Sequoia National Park since before the fires (2020, 2021) and flood (2022-2023).

I love to climb Moro Rock, so that is how I chose to spend my birthday. The burned parts of the Park looked terrible, but the road is great and the unburned parts are beautiful too.

Enough yammering. Here are some photos.

Some of the dogwood leaves were changing.

We see Alta Peak from our house in Three Rivers so it is fun to see it closer from Moro Rock.

The red oval is circling two almost invisible plumes of smoke from the current fire at Redwood Canyon.

It looks as if the stairs end here, but if you make a sharp right, they keep on aclimbin’.

On the way up and at the top we heard an English accent, several languages we didn’t recognize, and what I think was Korean. Everyone was polite, helping each other out with photos, moving aside on narrow places.

Crescent Meadow was our next destination.

The road there passes the Parker Group, which is a great source of sequoias to paint, along with Tunnel Log, which I’ve also painted several times.

Tharp’s Log is an interesting spot, just about 1/2 mile from Crescent Meadow. I like seeing the human history in national parks.

It is rare to see the needles from a redwood/sequoia tree because they are usually so high up in the sky that you can’t tell what they look like. This time I kept my eyes open for a baby redwood, and voila! here it is. The needles look fluffy compared to pines, firs, and cedars. (They aren’t.)

I took this through the windshield on the way home when traffic stopped. Four Guardsmen is often a traffic stopper. Apparently people forget how to drive when they are in a national park.

The day was an experience in nostalgia. Trail Guy used to be Road Guy, with 37 years of working for Sequoia. Things now look different, because things are done differently than when he retired 11 years ago. Some are an improvement, and some in the category of Are You Kidding??

It was also a day of comparison. Seemed like Moro Rock’s steps were a bit steeper than remembered, and the handrail seemed a bit lower. The Generals Highway was infinitely better than the Mineral King road. The trails were mostly paved and certainly much flatter than in Mineral King. We talked to someone from Germany, someone from Ecuador, and heard many languages that we could not identify. There were lots of people, particularly for a midweek day, AFTER Labor Day.

What a great way to spend a birthday! And, although I wasn’t driving Fernando, it was a business trip because I got a few more photos for painting from.

In conclusion, “Will you still need me, will you still read me, when I’m sixty-four?”

Because I am now. (But not losing my hair—growing it, actually, to save in case I do lose it!)

Sequoia Sequoia National park

Breaking the Silence—Mineral King in Early October

It is normal for us to close our cabin in mid-October. We closed a little earlier this year due to impending road construction.

We stopped at a lower spot so that Trail Guy could move a tarantula off the road.

There was a weird phenomena along the road: white stuff that looked like thick spider web material was stuck in grasses and shrubs almost all the way to Conifer, the upper gate. It felt sticky to Trail Guy; it felt like unnatural fiber such as acrylic or nylon to me, the way it stuck to my hangnails. My camera stopped working on the close-up setting, so it is a little hard to see what this stuff looked like.

There were definite signs of fall, finally.

We walked up to Crystal Creek, and the normally Yellow Tunnel was still green.

We walked down the road to Cold Springs Campground.

A little bit of work has been done on the Nature Trail, which was blocked by fallen trees and snow patches earlier in the summer. The water is still flowing strong, the aspens are still green, and there is some fall color showing in a few leaves.

We saw some interesting things.

This giant red fir was felled in Cold Springs Campground a year or two ago.

The berries were abundant this year.

Snowberry (white, hard to see in this photo)

Closing has lots of tasks, not all of which I photographed, because why would you want to see all that?? But here is one, peculiar to our cabin. Not every cabin requires a climb onto the roof.

Closing is bittersweet. It is hard to say goodbye to one’s second home, even if it is a seasonal farewell. There is also the relief of knowing everything is securely buttoned up, putting away one’s duffel-bags, being home, catching up on yardwork, spending time with the cats, going to church again, staying current with emails and various internet activities, getting work done. (Knitting is portable, so I didn’t list this.)

Trail Guy is nostalgic; I just knit, unravel, reknit, and enjoy the final moments.

The drive down took awhile because we stopped several times to share information about sites and road construction, to discuss the locks on the gates, to wish friends a good winter, and to just take in the sights.

The water is still flowing along the road, and scarlet monkeyflowers were abundant this year. We also saw Farewell-to-Spring, yes, in October!

Farewell, Farewell.

Mineral King

Category: Personal