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Instead of showing you my current art projects or discussing the unending challenges and rewards of being a fulltime artist in Tulare County, today is another bonus peek at spring in Three Rivers.
These photos were taken on Friday morning.
Tomorrow I’ll show you my current odd job.
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There have been ongoing diversions and distractions lately. In spite of loving what I do for a living, there are many things I would rather do when it is spring in Three Rivers.
Early last week it snowed low again. The white snow on the peaks blended with the white sky, so all you can see is a tiny hint of Moro Rock.
The measuring stick on the downstream side of the Dinely Bridge got washed away in the flooding.
This is looking upstream, and maybe you can get a slight hint of how low the snow is.
I spent some time helping friends prepare the yard where their daughter’s wedding will be. We kept taking breaks because of the rain.
She wants to get married in front of that tipi thing.
I had a little trouble being efficient with my time, because the four black cattle (cows are females that have given birth; these are either heifers or steers, for beef) kept asking for my prunings, and the smaller black creature kept wanting me to toss the Frisbee. 
Did you know that black steers have dark gray tongues? I didn’t. It was very challenging to capture that peculiarity with a camera. 
You can see a little bit of the tongue on the left side of the photo.
They were highly entertaining.
Apparently they thought I was too.
This reminds me of a joke about some guys at a diner. They asked about the special, and when they were told it was cow tongue, one of them said, “Oh gross! I’d never eat anything that came out of a cow’s mouth. I’ll just have some eggs.”
One of the trees I was pruning was a Meyer lemon, and it inspired me to take this photo.
Meanwhile, it was raining on the flowering quince, which is usually in bloom around mid-February. Not this year!
Another chance to soak up the brilliant color of the fantastic germander.
I love spring in Three Rivers. Can you tell?
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This morning I went for a walk up Salt Creek (Bureau of Land Management property). It was so beautiful that it warrants an extra blog post of photographs.
The first photo was taken at the Dinely bridge while waiting for my walking buddy to arrive. The rest are on the BLM property.
There is a new parking lot at the top of Salt Creek Road, but the gate prevents anyone from using it. We went that way because the 2 footbridges crossing Salt Creek got washed away.
This is the side trail to that pond, obliterated now.
This used to have a nice footbridge across it. Now there is no footbridge at all, nice or otherwise.
With a bit of warmth, the redbud will be popping out soon. (It already is in yards in Three Rivers.)
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“Locals” is the name of the current exhibit (i.e. show and sale of art) at CACHE, the new name for Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery and Museum. It stands for Center for Art, Culture, and History in Exeter. THE RECEPTION IS SUNDAY, 2-4 PM.
I began my recorded talk about this oil painting, “Groves, Hills, and Mountains” like this:
“A few years ago I became obsessed with the way that orange groves look against foothills and distant mountains. I took many photos and borrowed from friends, and began painting those scenes.”
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“Locals” is the name of the current exhibit (i.e. show and sale of art) at CACHE, the new name for Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery and Museum. It stands for Center for Art, Culture, and History in Exeter. THE RECEPTION IS SUNDAY, 2-4 PM.
I began my recorded talk about this pencil drawing, “Big Oak in the Pasture” like this:
“I spent time with a friend who had cattle, and we often passed this large oak, standing by itself in her pasture. Sometimes I looked at the overall shape, and other times I looked at the tangled branches. I think it is a Valley Oak, and it kept calling me back. I took many photos, not sure how they would get used.”
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How’s that for a mysterious title?
“Locals” is the name of the current exhibit (i.e. show and sale of art) at CACHE, the new name for Exeter’s Courthouse Gallery and Museum. It stands for Center for Art, Culture, and History in Exeter.
I qualified to show in Locals in spite of never having lived in Exeter because my studio was there for 9 years.
There wasn’t a limit to the number to be entered. Normally in a group show each applicant is limited to 3-5 pieces, so I entered five.
Then we were asked to record ourselves talking about each piece, so that visitors who bring smart phones and ear thingies can scan the scribbly square and listen to artists.
The piece above is Kaweah Oaks Preserve, painted specifically for this exhibit. (If the title of the show is “Locals”, it stands to reason that the art ought to be locally themed).
Here is a little bit of what I said in my recording about the painting:
“Kaweah Oaks Preserve is a place we all just get used to passing without really noticing anything in particular. Driving home on Highway 198, I was surprised by how clearly Alta Peak shows from Kaweah Oaks Preserve. I snapped a few photos through the windshield, then did some photoshop work to see if anything might be useful.”
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Sometimes I draw simply because I love to draw. I try to hold back, because my flat files are full. When I have a good reason and know the drawing will not simply be stored in my files, then get outta my way.
(“Outta” is like “prolly” and “liberry”: words I like in spite of being an editor and a proofreader.)
An acquaintance did me a big favor, so I am drawing her cabin.
I started several months ago, then set it aside because of paid work. My work priority order is this: 1. commissions with a deadline; 2. commissions without a deadline; 3. building up inventory of subjects that will prolly sell; 4. reworking paintings that haven’t sold; 5. whatever I feel like painting or drawing.
This one is considered to be Category #2. The customer isn’t commissioning me because she doesn’t know she is a customer. I am commissioning myself.
What does commission mean? That’s another topic for another blog post.
This is the drawing before I tackled it with Photoshop Junior to prepare it for eventual printing, which most likely won’t happen.
And this is after I converted it to grayscale and erased any errant lines or spots, most likely the result of a scanner screen that WILL NOT come clean, which is most likely the result of scanning paintings that aren’t quite dry, which is most likely the result of being in a hurry, which is most like the result of any number of unfortunate incidents such as not planning ahead, pulling weeds or taking walks instead of working, or choosing to draw something without a deadline instead of painting to build up inventory.
Where were we?
Oh. The finished drawing.
Now I am outta here.
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A day before the big storm, there was a brief time of sunshine. It lit up this germander, a drought tolerant shrub that looks great in spring and horrid in summer.
That evening, Jackson did not want to be put away. He decided to walk the other way and then attempt to catch his own dinner. I walked around the yard calling for him, and of course, he ignored me. However, I found him. Can you see his tail?
He was very intensely focused on some quail which feed around dusk, which is when we feed our cats.
Dude, I am watching you, and you are not going to catch a quail. 
He showed up at the front door looking for entry to the workshop where his dinner was waiting. Michael walked him over, and put him away for the night.
The next day was so intensely green and my leaning tree was in full bloom. (It’s a flowering pear, one of the earliest trees to bloom and one of the last to hold its color in the fall.)
Eventually I made it into the workshop (the cats’ safe place at night) to get a little painting done.
The first one is called Below Terminus Dam. I love this view in spite of it not having snow-covered peaks in the distance. Some years there are poppies on the distant hills; it is too soon to know this year because we are having a real winter.
This is the commissioned piece, now finished. (The right side looks darker because I am casting a shadow on it.)
This is the painting that was giving me trouble. I’ve decided that it is finished now.
This concludes today’s post about your Central California artist enjoying spring, her recalcitrant cat, her yard, and painting her favorite Tulare County scenes.
Thank you for visiting my blog today.
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This is your photojournalist reporting in from an excursion taken today, Saturday, March 18, 2023. Trail Guy, The Farmer, and I drove about 4 miles up the Mineral King road, then continued on foot. There will be many many photos (I took 92 but will only show you 47—you are welcome), and a little explanation or commentary.
The Road Closed sign is barely visible here below Mile 4.
A friend was doing a similar excursion and began the same time we did. Trail Guy advised him to climb up to the flume for easier walking, because his destination was farther up the road than ours.
Common sight.
Ho-hum, another big rock.
Mud, road a little bit gone.
And yet another rock.
And another chunk gone.
Wait, are you telling me we could have driven another 1/2 mile up?? Apparently so.
Whoa. This is the big washout. I bet Mineral King folks will forever refer to this as Washout Corner, or Washout Canyon.
We had a little bit of boulder scrambling to do.
Then some water to cross.
Looking back at the mess.
About 1/2 mile farther up from the mess.
Standard mud-on-road.
Oh-oh. Are we finished? The road certainly is. This is at Skyhook.
Nope, we are not done. The Farmer scrambled up the bank to the flume, pronounced it doable, and we followed.
Our friend caught up with us on the flume, and we pulled aside to let him pass because he was on a mission to check on a man who lives farther up the road. We were just ogling, on a mission to see things.
We climbed down.
And headed down a paved road to the real road…
…only to discover we were on the uphill side of Skyhook. The flow went right through the center of the property.
I want to go to the bridge.
In the days before the flood, this would have been considered a disaster. Now, it’s merely another blip on the screen of the Winter of Water.
Bear Canyon survived. It appears to be abandoned, so even if it got washed away, no one would care. (what a waste)
Another muddy section.
And yet another one. I waded through this one in barefeet. 
By the time I got to this muddy mess, I just walked through in my trusty hiking Crocs.
Such a beautiful flow of water in this canyon after too many dry years.
MY FAVORITE BRIDGE IS FINE!!
Rocks, mud, no big deal.
Happy Centennial, Oak Grove Bridge!
Looking upstream.
Looking downstream.
Just looking.
And looking.
Time to turn around and head back to the pick-em-up truck.
Whoa. Is this a new disaster waiting to happen to the flume just below the bridge? Or are we seeing with new eyes, filtered for impending doom?
Here’s the abandoned Bear Canyon.
Climbing up to the flume just above Skyhook.
I really like walking the flume. Not supposed to do it.
Our friend told us that the flume had blown apart or been smashed by a tree, so he had to do some scrambling and crawling. We got to this yellow tape, and climbed down the steps to the access road.
This is the access road onto the flume, opposite the very wide spot in the road below the bridge.
We walked back without incident, happy to be alive, thankful for rain, thankful to be able to walk 5 miles, thankful for springtime, thankful for friendship, just thankful.
And looking forward to seeing repairs by the Tulare County Roads Department. But I bet the people at Skyhook and those on above are looking forward to that road work even more than we are.
Thanks for coming with me on this tour. Batten the hatches, because there is another storm coming our way tomorrow.
If you receive these posts in email and the pictures in the post don’t show for you, tap here janabotkin.net. It will take you to the blog on the internet. These photos are from March 2, a brilliant and cold day.
A friend and I went for a walk. (This was before the big rains.) I realized that while this first photo is normal to us, it is probably peculiar to other folks. These boulders get moved to block parking spaces when Edison closes its beaches on busy weekends. This method of closing a parking area is probably unusual; I think it is innovative.
The river is flowing steadily but isn’t high because nothing above was melting yet.
The snow was sooooo low.
But the daffodils were bright, in spite of being slightly splattered with mud.
Enough. Get to work, Central California Artist!
This oil painting, an 11×14″ commission is coming together. No matter how difficult these seem at the beginning, if I don’t give up, eventually they get done in a believable manner.
“Nevuh, nevuh, nevuh give up” —good advice from Winston Churchill.