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.
I took these photos the first 4 days of the glorious month of March in Three Rivers.
That’s it. Next week we will return to the business of art.
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.
Oh No! The iconic valley oak on Kaweah River Drive fell over!
Lots of firewood in that dude.
A number of years ago when we still had a newspaper made out of paper (now we don’t even have an online paper), someone wrote an angry letter to the editor after Southern California Edison pruned the tree. It was both rude and ignorant, as I recall. The tree was a leaner, and I knew it couldn’t last. I’m guessing that letter writer might need to be sedated now.
On the same day I saw this sad sight, I saw a redbud in bloom. IN FEBRUARY!!
And finally, my flowering pear tree has blossomed.
I could work in the studio and show you what I’m doing in my art business. But instead, I will show you a few more photos tomorrow. Then maybe I’ll go back to the business of art.
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*.
*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!
Today we will have a few more quiet photos.
Tomorrow I will put my work face back on, pick up my pencils, and soldier onward.
I’m tired of friends’ fathers and husbands dying. So, today we are just going to quietly enjoy a few photos.
To be continued tomorrow.
If you have followed my blog for a few years (THANK YOU!), you may recall that I love February. When we have decent winters, things turn green and the wildflowers begin. It isn’t hot yet, there is snow on the mountains, the air is clear and the rivers are flowing. With no apologies to those of you who are in the depths of winter (because we all have our tough seasons wherever we choose to live), here are some glimpses into February in Three Rivers, which is the beginning of spring for us.
Don’t you wish you could live in Three Rivers in late winter/early spring? Fret not, we’ll pay for it in July, August, and September.
A dear friend told me that she really enjoys my blog posts when I write about thoughts. Here, this is what she said:
Maybe it’s because I’m a worker of words, but I really enjoy your entries that describe your central valley world, your life in it, and your feelings. The reader responses you receive indicate many others do too. I believe getting to know the artist who produces beautiful views of the world beyond our human angst and cultural foibles is an important part of any sale, and I hope you keep posting such thoughts often! I can see them in a book of your own some day. 🙂
Wow. That was thought-provoking, encouraging, and as always from this friend, very kind.
Late one night I had a mental list of ideas to write about. Instead of writing, I went to bed. Now my head is empty, so let’s just have some photographs today with a little commentary.
Both cats came from the same place; well, more accurately, Jackson’s mother came from the same place as Perkins.
Okay, maybe I’ll just sit here for a pair of minutes and see if any of those great late-night thoughts reassert themselves.
Guess not.
There is an excellent museum in Three Rivers, and parked in front are some old fire trucks plus this tow truck. I had to wait for a couple of friends stuck at one of the many ongoing lengthy roadblocks, so I wandered around with my inferior phone camera.
On a recent walk, I took this photo because it reminded me of my painting titled Swinging Oak. You can see it below with a convenient link for purchasing from my website. It’s just business. (I’m tryna earn a living here!)
Where’s the other chair?
Why am I not showing you any paintings or drawings? Because I am spending most of my time in the studio, editing another book for another writer on another topic.
And that’s all I’m going to say about that.