Central Calif. Artist in Sandy Eggo

After the family wedding on the Queen Mary, I headed down to Sandy Eggo. San Diego. (When I lived there during college, I saw an occasional bumper sticker that read, “I go to Sandy Eggo State University”.)

First, a stop at my mural. I didn’t paint it, but it seems that someone must have painted it for me.

My sister and I love to walk through neighborhoods. Look at the name of this one:

I saw a business there called “Abnormal” something-or-other. 

We walked several miles looking at houses and yards. Because it costs so much to live there, even the most modest homes are very well maintained, landscaped, and just doggone cute. I really love the attention to detail, especially in tile work.

This corner with all sorts of blue treasures in the dirt grabbed me. I am used to looking for treasures, an occasional blue sparkly something to take home. But these clearly belonged at this address. (Why would someone sprinkle blue sparkly things in his yard this way??)
We found a monastery. A real monastery! It is so very beautiful, a large piece of property with gardens galore, high walls and hedges to keep the mystery in and the gawkers out. (Tulare County could use some nice architecture like this.) 

There were several Little Free Libraries, but this was the first one I’ve seen with succulents growing on the roof.

This citrus tree had 5 varieties budded onto it. I think this type of tree is called “tutti-fruiti”.

So much variety in the plant life. This upside-down morning glory is on a shrub.

Then, we went to the beach. Of course we went to the beach – we were in Sandy Eggo!! We Central California natives are always happy to walk along the Pacific Ocean.

Monday will be the post about things I learned in February, and then I hope to return to our regularly scheduled broadcast on Tuesday. 

This means I will stop diverting your attention away from my art and get back to the business of being your Central California artist.

The Queen Mary

Yesterday I promised photos of the Queen Mary, a beautiful ship docked in the Long Beach, California harbor. One of my dearest cousins got married on this fantastic boat last weekend. I’ll keep the family photos private, but am happy to share with you some of the photos of the ship.

My first view – wow.

I went early so I could wander around and take in the sights.

The day had rain, clouds, sunshine, and rainbows.

Tomorrow I’ll show you where I went next.

Pippin

I’ve heard a few blog readers express their appreciation for glimpses of our cats. We currently have three, down from seven last spring when Scout, now deceased, gave birth to five babies, 2 of which found safe homes, and one which disappeared.

Trail Guy and I are doing our best to protect our herd. There is a strict curfew each night, and we herd them into the outbuildings where they are imprisoned during the darkness for their own safety and our peace of mind.

However, we have lost plenty of cats during daylight hours, so we are wary, leery, cautiously optimistic, and possibly slightly weird about those who remain.

Of these three, Pippin is the friendliest and the most photogenic, possibly the most loveable. (With apologies to Tucker and Jackson, but you two could try to show up more often and be friendlier, you know!)

Trail Guy took all of today’s photos. Is it possible that he is more Cat Disordered than I am??

Road Trip, Part Five

After Sidewinder Canyon in Death Valley, we took the long drive to Dante’s View. Dante was an Italian poet in the 1200s who wrote something called “The Inferno”, an appropriate sort of name for anything associated with Death Valley. Many places there refer to death and other unpleasant sorts of things, which is fitting when one considers that most things in the desert are designed to stab, kill, or poison the visitor. And almost everything in Death Valley National Park is a long drive.

I found a very pretty rock, but experience tells me that rocks turn meh when they get home, so it was a Leverite – “Leave ‘er right where you found ‘er”.

After Dante’s View, our hostess/tour guide/dear friend showed us a magical place, appropriately called The Inn at Death Valley. It was opened in 1927, and it was truly beautiful.

There was a burned out building that got turned into a beautiful garden, ponds surrounded by palms, stone steps and paths, classic architecture, and a mysterious palm orchard, for which I can find no explanation. These aren’t date palms. 

I have questions. Always.

And maybe you have a question for me. Ask away!

Okay, just two more photos.

And thus we conclude another road trip with the Central California artist, with the hopes that some seed of new creativity lodged in her inquiring mind.

Road Trip, Part Four

After our Salt Creek adventure in Death Valley, we headed to a place called Sidewinder Canyon.

This is the view looking back across the valley before we headed on foot up the canyon. The Valley. Death Valley.

That crack in the wall is our destination.

Looking ahead.Looking back.

Trail Guy helped me up the steep steps.

Then we reached a wall. Time to head back.

To be continued. . .

Road Trip, Part Three

We were able to pack many sights and sites into a short visit to Death Valley.

When our friend got off work, we headed to a place called Salt Creek. Someone told us that it gets really interesting if you go beyond the boardwalk.

This place is just so weird.

We walked across the salt fields, which were wet in some places.

So wet in surprising places that sometimes one sinks in and must crawl out, while trying to stand up but laughing too much to find a foothold. (And my friend was laughing too, but she took photos instead of helping me out!)

And this is why people are advised to stay on the boardwalks.

No worries – I just scrubbed up in the salty creek (and then rinsed the salt out of my shoes later). It was worth the hearty laugh.

We visited a mine next. I forgot the name but remember that it was in operation from 1904-1917 and produced a pile of gold.

It had a tramline like the one in Mineral King, but I didn’t feel like climbing up to it. (My shoes were wet.)

To be continued. .

Road Trip, Part Two

The first morning we were in Death Valley, our friend was working, so we took a walk to one of the many abandoned cabins, this one about a mile above her house. We saw it a year ago and found it interesting enough to visit again.

Our friend told us there are probably 100 or more such cabins in Death Valley. I find that fascinating (but no, there won’t be a book by me about this.)

As usual, my attention went right to the shiny and colorful object among all the variations of browns and grays on the rocky ground.

The cabin was located near a water source. We headed down to see it because we spotted some wildflowers, called Bitter Brush.

Of course we went off trail, which makes me a bit nervous in the desert where everything is designed to kill or poison you. 

There are an infinite number of places where people used to fling their trash, now called “can dumps”, which got me thinking that the entire park is now a Can’t Dump kind of place.

To be continued. . .

Road Trip, Part One

Oh boy, there she goes again, rambling on about another trip instead of showing us what it is to be an artist in Central California. Well, artists have to take field trips for new sights and locations; it fuels creativity (so I’ve read).

We went to Death Valley to visit a dear friend. The desert doesn’t really appeal to me with all its dry brownness, but this is a very dear friend and visiting her makes this weirdly wonderful place appealing. Because of her, we got to see all sorts of things that we would not have experienced otherwise.

We headed East on 178 which is in the Kern River canyon and goes over Walker Pass. It is one of the only choices for crossing the Sierra Nevada on the southern end.
The route took us through Trona, which might possibly be the ugliest town I’ve ever seen. Wow, those poor people who live there. . . there must be something to enjoy in that desolate place.

This is the view from the road in front of our friend’s house.

This is the evening view from our friend’s house. (The finger in the corner is a little bonus.)

To be continued. . .

8 Things Learned in January

As January flew by, I compiled another list of new-to-me facts, information, and experiences to share with you. Treasures, perhaps?

  1. People with barking dogs don’t care that their dogs disrupt the peace of any outdoor activity for the neighbors. They just don’t care.
  2. Eleven sets of variety pack notecards produced by me since the late 1980s? That was a lot of notes getting written to people. Maybe being in the Esses means one reminisces more about bygone days. (Two more posts about this to come next week.)
  3. I took a three mile walk along the length of Main St. in Visalia, beginning in the somewhat industrial east end, awed by the variety of downtown (Did you know there is a little store that sells nothing but succulents?? Neither did I.), admiring the old homes that are now lawyer and dentist offices, reminiscing a tiny bit as I passed my high school, on to the Courthouse area, through the office compounds, and past many beautiful Valley Oak trees. Walking is such a great way to really appreciate a town.
  4. Picking Up: On the Streets and Behind the Trucks with the Sanitation Workers of New York City by Robin Nagle was a weirdly intriguing book. Two main facts stuck with me: 1. Sanitation work is the most dangerous job in New York and 2. New York doesn’t use trash cans –instead, people toss bags of garbage on the sidewalks!
  5. In a few more generations, the terms “clockwise” and “counterclockwise” won’t mean anything. That’s even worse than not understanding what it means to “dial” a phone or “roll up” a window in a car.
  6. Word By Word: The Secret Life of Dictionaries by Kory Stamper is another weirdly intriguing book (not finished yet) with a disturbing fact: dictionaries are descriptive rather than prescriptive. What this means is that they follow the trends of language rather than establishing it, so if a word is used enough in the wrong way, it becomes part of the dictionary. (I’m afraid to look up “irregardless” in case it has become a real word).
  7. Our national parks need employees.  The parks are more popular than ever, but some are so short-staffed in the HR departments that they can’t process applications to fill vacancies. What is causing this??
  8. Death Valley is weirdly wonderful. I wouldn’t go there if it wasn’t for a dear friend who is a terrific hostess and personal tour guide. Here are a few fun facts about DEVA: over 1000 miles of roads with only about 25% paved, maybe as many as 100 abandoned cabins, water all over the place in hidden canyons, and there are so many old mines that I couldn’t find the number. They were for boron, gold, lead, silver, zinc, clays, talc-soapstone, copper, tungsten, fluorine, pumice, zeolites, iron, manganese, uranium, thorium, antimony, sand and gravel. Probably more things too. But who could stand to be there in a place where temperatures can hit 130°??

 

And thus we conclude another month and another list of random items of interest to this Central California artist. I hope you also find this collection of odd facts fun and intriguing.

Winter Walk

What passes for winter in Three Rivers would make a Minnesotan weep. On Trail Guy’s birthday, we went to a foothill area of Sequoia National Park that most visitors don’t know about. It feels like trespassing, but it isn’t.

We parked at the Rec Building near Ash Mt. He said, “We had a lot of good parties there.” I replied, “Yep, and a lot of boring ones too”. This is the place where I used to attend retirement parties for Park people that I didn’t know until I figured out that attendance wasn’t mandatory. The building is long, narrow, and very loud.

Next area was a boneyard of equipment and non-photogenic stuff, then the corrals.

I appreciate the signage at the corrals. (Cowboy humor reminds me of Cowboy Bert. It’s been a little over a year since we lost him. Heavy sigh.)

We stayed on the road until we got to this little creek, appropriately named Sycamore Creek. From there, we took another road that led down to who knows where. Trail Guy said, “Do you think we can make it back up this?” I said, “It might be too hard, but we’ll have to do it anyway.”

He noticed that thing in the tree and said, “There’s a bar – I wonder what it’s for?” I said, “You want a beer? Or maybe you need a lawyer?” Turns out it was some sort of a microphone with a solar powered box, maybe to record animal noises. I don’t think we accidentally uttered anything subversive.

These little plants will turn into irises in about May. It will probably too hot to go find them then.

We saw a few mules doing what mules do. Horses too. This is a horse. (Thank you, Trail Guy, for straightening me out.)

I found this round thing and decided it must be a tuit. Might come in handy.

While Trail Guy poked around in the boneyard piles of old Park equipment, I studied oak branches, preparing for my next mural.

This might make a nice painting, although I never know quite how to handle the gray matter of leafless oak trees massed together.

This might be a better view.

There I go again, turning every outing into a business trip. That’s the way it is when one is an artist.