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.
Still Clinging to February
Three Rivers Trees
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.
Looking Back at February
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!
Further February Meanderings in Three Rivers
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.
Meandering in Three Rivers in a Beautiful Month
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.
Early Spring in Three Rivers
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.
Mental Meanderings
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.
This and That: Wandering Around Three Rivers
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.
Sunny January Day in Three Rivers
On a sunny January day, we went for a stroll, and I took a few photos with my inferior phone camera. I really don’t need any more photos, but one never knows if the light will be the best it has ever been. If I was more motivated, I would have taken some paints, a tripod, a palette, and a pochade box. Then the walk would have been a business trip. Nah, too much gear—I would have needed to drive and missed out on the exercise.
The walk was a time for contemplating matters of consequence along with enjoying the ability to see beautiful sights while soaking some rays*. In retrospect, it was an important time of peace because when we got home, we received two unwelcome pieces of news.
Two people in our lives died: one was unexpected, an important person in our lives; the other was expected, an important person to people I care very much about. The ability to enjoy being mobile and vertical, see familiar and beautiful sights, and absorb some sunshine . . . so many people, particularly of our parents’ generation, are dropping. . . kind of hard to form complete sentences around this.
*Has anyone else noticed that people no longer just drink water? Now, they “hydrate”. Is it possible to just enjoy sunshine anymore or do we all have to “get our vitamin D”? Is it all those ridiculous commercials on teevee which try to turn us into pharmacists who “ask our doctors” about various medicines, or into nutritionists prescribing forty-eleven supplements that will allow us to all live as 20-year-olds indefinitely? Tiresome stuff.
Plein Air at the Lake
Krista was willing and able to meet me at the lake (Lake Kaweah in Three Rivers) to plein air paint, the very next day after Trail Guy and I walked on the lake bottom.
Gear management is one of the most difficult aspects of plein air painting. What do you actually need? Paint, brushes, oil, paper towels, a palette, a way to prop up your canvas (currently I use a pochade box made from a cigar box and a tripod), a stool to sit on or to rest your stuff, and a way to transport it all.
None of my stuff is ideal, because the best set-ups cost up to $1000. Not worth it for someone who doesn’t really enjoy this method of painting and doesn’t paint well enough this way to recoup the costs.
The little red wagon was helpful, but it was downhill to our location so it kept rolling into the back of my legs. Oh well, sometimes there are little annoyances in life that have to be overlooked. We parked the wagon off the road in the mud, did a sketch, then walked farther to do another sketch, knowing no one would bother our painting gear.
The first sketch was the best, so we returned to the wagon and set up.
The light was changing, as it does. But I’m learning to just flow with it, knowing that my painting won’t look good until I finish it in the painting workshop at home.
It was helpful to paint with Krista, to discuss colors and values and to encourage one another.
The time went quickly, and when the shade came over us, it got COLD.
Good enough. Needs work. Duh. Brrrr. One last photo, then I’m outta here.
Krista and I discussed finishing the paintings at home; she wondered how many people do it that way. It seemed that while I was in Monterey, most people finished the paintings on location. But in Plein Air magazine, 80-90% of the paintings shown say “plein air/studio”, indicating that the painters were not able to turn out work in one outdoor session.
Back in the parking lot (it was much easier to pull the little red wagon uphill than have it bashing into my legs going downhill), we ran into my very good friends (another great thing about Three Rivers). They came to walk the dog and fly a kite.
Now I have the song “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from Mary Poppins looping endlessly in my head.
Conclusion: A good time of painting with Krista, another humbling admission that plein air painting doesn’t seem to work for me, but also that I will continue to try. Like taking vitamins, you can’t tell if it is really doing anything, but you continue, just in case.