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.
It’s just too short. Of course, by now it is March and there are even more things to photograph. Maybe I should put those pictures on hold until August or September, when it is just ugly around here.
Early-ish March isn’t that much different from late February. On an early morning walk, I just wanted to stop time.
This house always grabs my attention, with its quiet simple beauty.
As I walked, I kept smelling something that I couldn’t identify. It was a good smell, and one that I hadn’t noticed before. It was on a route that I only take when my walking partner isn’t with me, chosen because it is shorter than our normal walks. That’s the way I trick myself into going alone.
This is the first time in 26 years that I’ve noticed ceanothus while walking. It is native to this area, and it isn’t very attractive in my book. But I wondered if that was the source of the good smell.
Indeed it was!
With flowering quince and daffodils going gung-ho (that’s a weird word—Chinese origins?**) in my yard, along with mowed weeds that pass for a lawn in spring, I almost felt happy to be alive*.
This one of about nine mailboxes scattered around our extensive yard; they are tool containers so I don’t have to hike a mile for a trowel.
This is flowering quince, not redbud, which is actually pink.
*Fret not. That’s something my dad used to say in his buffoonish way of disseminating wisdom. I was thinking about him a lot in February because that was both his birth and death month.
** Thank you Gnat for sending me that little piece on MentalFloss.com verifying my guess that “gung ho” is Chinese!
Let’s just enjoy some photos today, no chitchat about going to town, no stressing over prices, no struggling with plein air painting.
That pair of red chairs is so insignificant in a photo but calls to me every time I look across the canyon.
Twenty-six years ago when I walked in this place, it was hard to find the trails. Now everyone who walks here seems to know the place because it has been splashed all over the world wide web.
At least now there are good bridges over the creek.
This would make a nice painting. Not plein air, at least not for me. Too far to schlepp the gear, and the light wouldn’t hold. Too many people hovering too.
