I shoved the couch to the right, covered it with the tarp, and tackled the remaining branches.
I forgot to take photos for a few hours, after shoving the couch back to the far left side. The next goal was to show depth where the new branches overlapped. This keeps the tree from looking like a cardboard cutout or flat paint. I want it to look as if it could lift off the wall (aiming high. . . )
A tree guy stopped by to look at it and give me his opinion (I asked him) —balanced, realistic, believable? After receiving the Gene Castro Seal of Approval, I moved ahead with confidence, tapping on some leaves.
When I was finished (because I was hungry again—could bring lunch, but I don’t want to spend time there not painting!) it looked like this.
One day is all that is necessary to complete the leaves and a few additional details. This has been an easy job in terms of commute (2 miles) and accessibility (indoors, 2 ladders but no extension ladder). Plus, I am at my church*, with lots of people coming and going, a very social and productive place.
As I work on the tree, it feels as if I am making no progress. I finally figured out why: it is because I am painting the same stuff over and over and over. Branch, twig, twig, twig, branch, twig, twig, twig, twig…
It also looks insignificant when seen with the entire wall, so the photos from Wednesday’s painting session are mostly focusing on the tree.
This is my view from the ladder.
I climb down the ladder, stand and stare, decide what needs to be thickened, tapered off, added, filled in. . . Then I climb up the ladder and try to recognize the spots that I decided to fix. Then when I can’t recognize them because it is too close and looks different, I climb back down the ladder to try again to memorize the particular spots, then climb back up the ladder to make the additions and changes, before I see something different to add, which would cause me to lose my place again.
When it got too confusing, I got my darker and lighter browns out so that I could create a bit of bark and a sense of branches overlapping.
After about 5-1/2 hours of this, I was hungry, cold, and confused. Hungry because breakfast was a long time ago, cold because I chose to not use the heater, and confused because it all looks alike. Fret not, I did take a couple of breaks because there were other people working at church on Wednesday. I warmed up in the office, got sidetracked with some sorting and tossing with the secretary, learned some fun things about the pastor, tried some fancy coffee with the janitress. (Woman janitor=janitress?)
I haven’t decided how far to the left to grow the branches, so I put the furniture back in place to see how it all looks together, hoping the answer will present itself on the next day of painting.
Pay no attention to the ladders in the corner or the inverted table on the rug. It’s there to flatten out the folds. When we began discussing how to make the room more inviting, my cohort mentioned that she just got new living room furniture and then I got all excited to grow an indoor tree. Thus, this project was born.
So, more branches and twigs, a decision about the length, more texture, some fuzzy green leaves the way they are looking in reality, outside, right now in Three Rivers, because this will be a one-season tree. I can’t make February last forever in real life, but I can do it on the wall.
P.S. Nope, not painting the underside of the soffit; I am NOT Michelangelo.
The first one was 3 stories high in someone’s living room. This was the first time such an idea was put forth to me, and it opened a new chapter in my muralizing life.
The second one was painted in an empty house as the owners were preparing to turn it into a vacation rental.
My church* hired a new pastor, and things are rockin’ and rollin’ (not literally). Many changes are taking place, for which I am grateful, excited to be part of, and will tell you about the ones that are relevant to this blog.
This room is called the “multipurpose room”. For quite a few years, it was used as a “pilot room”, i.e. “Pile it in there”. When the junk was finally all gone, several of us put our heads together to find a way to make the room feel warm and welcoming, and to truly serve multiple purposes.
Someone brought in comfy furniture for one end, and then I was allowed to go at it with paint.
Lots of climbing up and down to study and decide where to place the next branches and twigs, what to fatten, what to twist a bit more, etc.
When I got to the end of my breakfast (made it until 2:30), it looked like this.
So many decisions. So slow. Here’s what remains: more branches, more twigs, darken/lighten so it creates depth and layering, add texture, add leaves, add a few birds, moss, grasses. . . ?
Good thing it is indoors, because this is a rainy rainy rainy week.
Not literally. Figuratively. There is a difference in these two terms despite the language butchering (figurative, not literal) that is commonplace.
Using a template to convert a book from Word to InDesign is supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen??
Converting the InDesign file to a PDF for proofreading is supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen?
Getting a 1099 form used to mean waiting for the mail. Now you “just log in and download and print”. Supposed to be easy. Sure, if everything works. When does that happen?
“Go digital” to get your Social Security statements—“It’s Fast, Easy, and Secure”. Easy?? Who are you kidding?
“Get 85 Free Prints A Month” from Photo Affections! It’s fast and easy! Sure, except for all the hidden prompts, tiny clever little tools to guess at, and oh, by the way, only one print per image is allowed for free.
My head is about to explode.
Let’s just look at a few photos and try to regain our balance.
The beginning of spring in my yard: flowering quince, daffodils, germander
Morning light on Comb Rocks
Presbyterian Church: you can bet they never put kraft paper over their windows because they have stained glass with local wildflowers.
Now maybe I’ll go try to balance my checkbook with all those Paypal entanglements, debit cards, and oh, oops, I used the wrong account to pay for business expenses, and what was that automatic deduction for? That’s right, the printing 10-key machine makes illegible numbers, so I’ll clean it. Well, oops, now it won’t print. (Felt great to shove it in the trash, so there.)
Never mind. Today I am painting the mural in Ivanhoe, listening to roosters crow, dogs bark, cats yowl, and cars go past. Nothing on the computer, very very peaceful. I’ll show you all about it on Monday.
After a couple of weeks of messing around, I finally planted my feet in front of the easels to complete these three Sequoia paintings.
First, I dabbled on this one day, and then said, “Never mind, I’d rather [walk] [pull weeds] [go to the library] [anything else]”.
I girded my loins, and returned to the easels on another day. Can you tell which one is finished among these three?
Now two are finished, on the face anyway.
The light is beginning to wane, but all three are now finished on their faces.
The edges remained. It is a good way to use up the rest of the paint, and I hold them in my hand and rotate them around, trying to not end up wearing any paint. Finally, I laid them flat to dry.
The next oil painting task is to decide what to paint for the Silver City Store. Summer is like Christmas—we KNOW when it is coming, there is no excuse for procrastination, and there is plenty of time to prepare without getting jammed up against the calendar.
Maybe in one of those avoidance activities, I can engage in some deep thought to figure out why I was so reluctant to work on these paintings, which sell steadily at two local art stores/gift shops.*
Then since I was on a roll with Sequoia Trees, I got this panel set up in the sunshine to recoat the sky because that knothole made a weird appearance.
This is the page for February in my 2026 calendar.
I drew this in pencil (duh) from several photos taken a short distance up North Fork Drive in Three Rivers. The original is on a piece of 11×14” archival paper. It is for sale. $375 (plus tax if you live in California) or make me an offer.
Same size and price for the January drawing. Not tryna be sellsy or pushy (because that is obnoxious and I don’t really know how to do that). Just letting you know. Besides, this is supposed to be a business blog, not just me trip-trip-trapping around and then yip-yip-yapping about it.
While the east side of the country is getting hammered, the west side is having beautiful springlike weather. Let’s look at another walk, which probably could be classified as a hike if I had had the foresight to bring lunch. I did bring water and my walking stick, which was a good decision.
Poppies in January!
Not much water in that waterfall*.
Or this one. (It is a tiny light line in the shade.)
How in the world was this picnic table transported to this spot with no road??
Pippin was waiting for me to get home. Little sunshine kitty. Well, not actually little.
Jackson was also waiting, but he doesn’t want to look eager and make me think that he actually likes me.
Maybe I’ll get some work done tomorrow. Maybe I’ve done work already this week but haven’t shown you yet. Maybe I will work on the mural on Friday.
More will be revealed in the fullness of time.
*The waterfalls had good water when I photographed them in Spring 2023 for this painting (It shows as $700 on the website because the website is supposed to add sales tax, which I estimated to be $50.)
Salt Creek Falls, oil on wrapped canvas, 16×20″, $750
I recently read a useful acronym in Dusk Night Dawn by Anne Lamott: WAIT. It means Why Am I Talking. So today I will not talk, because I can’t think of a reason to talk that anyone would actually care about. Please enjoy these photos of what has masqueraded as winter in Three Rivers, California in January, 2026.
I’m around, but not working much, sort of taking time off to spend with some friends and other responsibilities. However, I know how annoying and puzzling it is when a blog you read daily just seems to vanish, so I’ll post a quick something each day. Far be it from me to annoy my tens of blog readers!
This painting sold a week or two ago. It has been around for awhile, so I figured that I must have saturated the market with the Kaweah Post Office. This is painting #23. The title is Kaweah Post Office XXII, but I miscounted when I was titling them.
I painted this one en plein air, and then didn’t like it so retouched it, still didn’t like it, so retouched it again. Then when it took awhile to sell, I almost pulled it from the store multiple times, but Nancy Who Knows Better kept urging me to leave it. So, we did little happy squeals and laughs when she told me last week that it sold.
Now I will only paint it again if someone commissions me.
The Kaweah Post Office is no longer operational. Used to be the smallest operating post office in the country. Now it is just a vandalism target. Sigh. It is in Three Rivers, although the folks nearby insist that they live in Kaweah, with their own zip code. Doesn’t mean anything because the mail lands in the Three Rivers Post Office.
