I stayed home last weekend. Our cabin is a summer residence in a summer place, and I am very ready to be home for awhile. So, I went through my photo archives, and today’s post will be random October photos of Mineral King from past years.
That was interesting. Let’s do a few more next week.
California has 21 missions, built in the 1700s or perhaps some in the 1800s. I don’t remember all the details from 4th grade, but I still love seeing those extremely ancient buildings. I detoured slightly on the way home from Gilroy to visit the mission in San Juan Bautista. It is better cared for than when I drew 30-something years ago. (Can’t find it to show you now. . .)
Across the street was an old building. It looked Victorian, not mission style, and it had a Texas flag. Weird.
California Highway 101 used to be called “El Camino Real”, which means The King’s Highway. All along are these old bells, except now I think the ones which haven’t yet been stolen are reproductions.
I have such a sense of awe, respect, curiosity, and a bit of excitement when I get to be at buildings this old. (Prolly would pass out if I ever made it to Ireland.)
San Juan Bautista is a small agricultural town; I don’t know what is growing in the fields down there.
When walking back to Mom’s Car, I took a picture of this saggy roof. (It reminded me of our cabin.)
Time to go home and get back to work.
P.S. I painted the Carmel Mission last year when at that weeklong painting retreat. It is fancier than San Juan Bautista.
On a recent weekend, I said to Trail Guy, “I MUST paint on Monday! Do not distract me, and please, please, if you see me messing around in the yard or the house, remind me that I must paint because I messed around all week, postponing painting!”
On Monday, he said, “Want to drive up South Fork? I haven’t been there in a long time and I want to see how the repairs from the ’23 flood and the fires look.”
NO! NONONO!
Then I gave it another thought and remembered that spring does not last forever. (Yes, thank you Gnat, I know it is always spring somewhere in the world, but I am only here, not anywhere else.)
So I said yes.
He said it would only be an hour; I said it would probably be three hours.
It was very green but nothing looked photo-worthy until we saw Homer’s Nose.
This is looking back at the new bridge, built in 2021.
The road ended about 1/4 to 1/2 mile below the campground. About a dozen cars were parked along the road. I wondered where all the people went, and Trail Guy wondered how they would get turned around on such a narrow road. (We turned around with about a 5-point turn.)
There were three women walking along the road, and Trail Guy stopped to talk to them. Two are sisters from LA who have owned a home near the South Fork Campground since 1974 (well, the property—I don’t know what year the house was built). They were very interesting and told us to stop by to view the lupine from their deck. They were convinced that lupine seeds were scattered during fire fighting operations, when “ping-pongs” were dropped from the air to start back-fires. (Scary!)
They had great wildflowers in their yard.
One last photo as we headed down the road. If I hadn’t felt the need to do some painting, if my camera battery hadn’t croaked, if we had brought lunch, I would have taken another 2 hours or so for photography. Doesn’t matter, it clouded up, and we headed home.
I painted all afternoon. I’ll show you tomorrow.
P.S. We were gone 3 hours.
The old rhyme “April showers bring May flowers” isn’t exactly true in Three Rivers. Here it is more that April showers prolong March flowers.
The turkeys are very busy right now. Too bad we don’t know where they lay their eggs; on the other hand, if you found a turkey egg, it might have a partially formed turkey inside. Guess I’ll take a pass on that situation.
These wildflowers are so predictably fabulous on the slope behind our house, and then we hire someone to weedeat them in early May. Weedeating would be a way to earn a steady income around here in the spring.
I walked across the middle fork of the Kaweah River last week. This is looking upstream (the left photo) and downstream (bet you can guess which photo) from that large bridge. It is the road that we call “North Fork”, in spite of the fact that it initially crosses the middle fork.
We walked in a new place last week. It was hot and dusty, so we didn’t go far. The green is hanging on by its fingernails.
The hill with 3 bumps is called Blossom Peak, unless you are a purist. Then you call one side “Blossom” and the other “Britten”. The details and precision of which bump represents which name eludes me.
The distant peak on the right is Case Mountain. Lots of people say they have hiked Case Mt. or sometimes they claim to have climbed it. If this is so, they went about 20 miles round trip, trespassing almost the entire way, and going through 7-9 private gates. Just want to set the record straight about that. I recently learned that a peak in that area (more like a tall steep hill) is called Holland Mountain. This is a new name for me, and I need to study a map to understand where it is. I love maps, learning new things, and knowing all I can about this county that’s been my home for 65-1/2 years.
I thought that perhaps this was a sketchy photo of the river in terms of painting, but since I had plenty of film (OF COURSE I AM KIDDING—film?? what’s film?), I took the shot anyway. All those stringy wild grape vines, the indecipherable brush. . . nope.
Thus we conclude another peek into Three Rivers in the spring. I want it to be spring forever.
In my little piece of Three Rivers, the deer don’t eat daffodils. Maybe they don’t taste as good as the native plants that are available around here in the spring. The gophers don’t bother them either. So, last December when the bulbs were on sale in Michigan (online), I bought a ton and planted them all around the yard. It was tricky business, because one is never quite certain where bulbs are already in the ground. If I was a real gardener, I’d have researched the height of each variety and somehow figured out which ones bloom first, and then paid attention to the individual packages and planted them in some sort of order.
I didn’t do any of that. I just roamed around the yard and stuffed them in the dirt willy-nilly.
Sometimes it is just more fun to be disorganized, spontaneous, and surprised.
Today’s post is about beauty, because April is beautiful around here. Color and light is a source of inspiration for paintings. (Detail and light inspires my pencil drawings.)
On my way down to work at the Mural Gallery I stopped in the usual turnout for a photo of the lake.
On the way home, I drove over Rocky HIll and took many photos. This is a small sample, and there are lots of painting ideas here.
Any one of these photos could be turned into a painting. There are even more photos that I didn’t show you.
There is a beautiful world outside of the studio, so we can’t be using up the glorious month of April simply showing you layers of paint as it dries on the canvas.
I’m not one of those people. The only day I don’t like is any day I have to go down the hill. But I only dislike the day while I am fixin’ to leave, because in spring, the drive is beautiful. Going down with a list of stops doesn’t make me happy, so I try to remember that it is fun to drive Fernando, that there are all sorts of good options for listening or a good chance to just have quiet, and that it is a real privilege to have a car, options, money to pay for gas and the various items to be accumulated while down the hill. (I’ve been a recovering pessimist for decades). Of course I am happiest when I am heading back up the hill, especially in the early evening with late sunlight on the hills and mountains.
In case you are one of those folks who dislike Mondays, here are some wildflower photos for you, taken in my neighborhood last Wednesday. (See why I dislike leaving home?)
We can do the Learned List tomorrow, if I can remember anything new learned in March.
The lavender started blooming early this year. That isn’t a real lawn; it is mowed weeds that dry out when the rain quits and the heat begins.
The Middle Fork of the mighty Kaweah River, looking downstream and upstream. The white-water is a little less than bright white because of the rain. (Ain’t nobody here complainin’ ‘bout that rain!)
Man oh man, I love me some green!
I was pulling weeds in the yard and heard (teehee, almost wrote “herd”) some funny sounds. These deer were eating weeds mere feet from me, chewing kind of loudly.
The first blue dicks, also known as brodaeia (can’t spell it, gave up trying), with an intense bush lupine behind. This is not in my yard.
Hi Pippin. You are the cutest cat, even if you have an entitlement attitude.
The first half of March was beautiful. Truly beautiful.
Then, it rained and it snowed kind of low (but not at my elevation). So, blossoms fell off trees and flowers got battered. But, it is still green.
