I wrote this post at the end of March and forgot to publish it. Will any of these photos translate into paintings? Maybe. No decisions yet. Just grabbing beauty when it is available.
The Lake isn’t actually in Three Rivers. The upper end is close; the dam end is closer to Lemon Cove. The lake level is even higher now, and the hills are mostly brown.
Some years there are fabulous lupine in great swaths at the water’s edge; they show in person, but not so well in these photos.
A popular turnout near the middle of The Lake (not out on the water—along the road 1/2 way between the intake and the dam) often has people pulled over taking photos. Me too. It is almost impossible to find a place to take the photo which includes Alta Peak and poppies. The poppies are excellent in the roadcuts where there is no shoulder, and the slopes are steep.
One day we were down the hill, we stopped by a friend’s orange grove and were probably 2-3 days early in terms of the blossoms being out. The oranges are fabulous. We expected to glean, but the grove hadn’t been picked yet. I gathered more photos for potential paintings.
Now get back to painting, Central California Artist!!
These are photos that could have been used in yesterday’s posts about what I learned in April. But since I am not working very much and Mineral King isn’t open yet, I saved some of them for today.
This white flower is a brodiaea that comes near the end of spring. Each one of those buds will pop open.
Lemon geranium is easy to start in pots, and I keep some ready to share on a regular basis. They came in handy when I needed a good ground cover for the vacation rental where I planted things last week.
While doing a bit of weeding at church, I realized that there were baby grasses of that roundy-moundy grass plant. I had just bought a new trowel, and this bowl was covering an irrigation timer, so I helped myself. Then I remembered to take a photo after we were on the way home from errands; hence the library book beneath the bowl.
My vacation rental manager/friend texted me from a nursery to ask if she should buy some society garlic. “Absolutely not!” said I. I have enough for a small island nation, right here in my herb garden.
She and I have landscaped an entire rental that began as squirrel holes and weeds. We did it on a shoestring, using plants that self-sow, rooting cuttings in dirt, rooting cuttings in water, and digging up plants all over my yard. It looks pretty great, albeit not formally landscaped. We definitely made some mistakes when buying plants, not understanding how large they might get. That’s okay—she now has someone who does mow/blow/go with occasional pruning, me for weeding, and the pair of us for transplanting.
When you live in a small town like Three Rivers, you get to know lots of people. This brings opportunities to try things, to experiment, to help friends out: hence, my “side-hustle” as a gardener.
Many people complain about vacation rentals, and it is true that there are too many in Three Rivers. “Too many” because normal people have been priced out of the market. Our town is hollowed out of actual residents—folks who put children in school, join clubs, attend churches, serve on local water boards, and lend you an egg or a can of tomato sauce in a pinch.
However, those vacation rentals are well-maintained, well-landscaped, pay their bills, don’t have barking dogs, and don’t park on the lawn. They also provide gainful employment for locals and people who come from down the hill to work (because they can’t afford to live here). Sigh.
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.
The recent drawing workshop in Three Rivers was successful; everyone learned, and everyone had a good time, including your Central California artist, in her role as a drawing teacher.
We met at someone’s house on the river, a place full of beauty, so there are photos of things that caught my fancy along with photos from the actual drawing session.
This is a little store where the hostess and her husband sell their beautiful pottery.
Some of the pottery that did not make it intact out of the kiln is now stepping stones. Could you imagine stepping stones any more classy than this??
Ten students sat at a long table inside the house because the river made it too hard to hear outside.
I discussed drawing steps and tools, and they started on some beginning exercises to practice the techniques.
After about 15 minutes, 2 hours had passed. (That’s how one of the participants described the time.) The hostess fed us a wonderful lunch out on her deck.
Everyone began working on a drawing after lunch, and I circulated around the table, showing them how to see what is really there, rather than what they thought ought to be there. Weird, I know, but that is what drawing is, at least the way I teach it. I teach people to see, which is also weird, considering I am one of the most nearsighted people I know of.
People had such a good time that there is talk of a follow-up drawing session. Regular lessons, or another workshop? Where? When?
More will be revealed in the fullness of time. . .
Not quite as pretty as the morning when I took the photo to paint Sunrise over the Kaweah River.
T (my walking partner) and I see these bunnies almost every morning. We don’t understand how they survive.
Blue dick and common madia are still going strong.
It was a morning to spend in the yard. If I wasn’t such a lenient boss, I’d have to fire myself. I seem to be semi-retired these days.
It is so interesting that there is one white iris on each side of the path, and they stand above the others. I planted these bulbs in autumn of 2023 and have no memory of arranging them in any particular order.
This segment of the yard is all pinky-purply. It has one purple iris, lots of freeway daisies, several redbud trees, some lavender and some lilac. Guess you have to be here to see it all in bloom at once.
Just a thought about color for you: there are 3 plants named for various shades of purple.
After finishing the new little paintings to sell in local galleries and gift shops, I returned to this 16×20” painting, which felt like a mural after those 6×6” canvases.
There was another painting session between the photo above and the next one. I didn’t take any photos because sometimes I just forget. Other times I say to myself, “Self”, I say, “No one cares”.
Sky first (because I paint back to front). These are colors I haven’t mixed before.
The improvements might be hard to locate, but not so hard if you remember that method of painting back to front. It means I paint the things farthest away first, and keep moving closer, rather than jumping around all over the canvas.
Holy guacamole, there are so many rocks in the lower left quadrant.
Nope, not going to paint all the rocks that show in the photo. I widened the river too, because I am the boss of the painting and the photo is not the boss of me.
Now it needs the edges painted, and a signature, but before either of those, I will mull this over for awhile. So often I think a painting or drawing is finished until I view it on my computer screen.
… it is time to produce more paintings. These are the standard small ones that sell steadily to visitors to Three Rivers and Exeter, where my three main selling locations are, Kaweah Arts, Stem & Stone, and the Mural Gallery and Gift Shop. (Because that lemon sold so quickly at the Mural Gallery, I have another one drying for them.)
They are all oil paint on wrapped canvas, which means the edges are painted and framing is optional. I just didn’t want to type that every time.
Poppy, 6×6”, $75 (Stem & Stone)
Poppy II, SOLD
Lemons on the Tree, 6×6”, SOLD
Big Tree, 4×6”, $75 (Stem & Stone)
Poppies up the North Fork, 6×12”, $145 (Kaweah Arts)
Sequoia Gigantea XVIII, 6×18”, $190 (Kaweah Arts)
Alta Peak, Moro Rock, 6×6”, $75 (Stem & Stone)
Kaweah Country, 6×6”, $75 (Stem & Stone)
P.S. If you don’t live in town and would like to buy any of these new paintings (the ones that haven’t sold already), I can retrieve them from their stores and send them to you.
TODAY IS THE SEVENTEENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THIS BLOG!
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.
