Yesterday I promised to show you the hike my walking buddy T and I took one morning instead of our usual ground-pounding fast walk. (This qualifies as a hike because we carried food and water.) We drove about 10 minutes into Sequoia National Park, a little ways past the entrance station in order to walk to Shepherd Saddle.
This was our view when we started around 8:30. Sure felt casual compared to our normal meeting time of 6:00.
We were expecting rain and wanted to test our new parkas, but Sycamore Creek was the only water we saw besides some puddles and a few water troughs for the stock.
Now here is a peculiar sight. Have you ever seen a horse with a perm?
The clouds obstructed most views of the mountains except for a tiny piece poking out.
The manzanita were almost the only flowers we saw.
The clouds were beautiful looking down the canyon.
And here we are, at the gate on Shepherd’s Saddle. We are on National Park land; the other side is a mystery as to ownership.
T gave me a tangerine, and it was so pretty I photographed it before peeling it. We left the emergency M&Ms unopened – please be impressed.
Going home was much quicker. Duh. It was all downhill.
Sycamore Creek already?
We wondered if it had more water flowing on the way back down, but didn’t pursue the question.
Okay, Central California artist, get to your easel and start painting.
Memorial service for The Cowboy Bert Raymond Weldon, May 21, 1956 — January 8, 2019 CELEBRATION OF LIFE AND RECEPTION Friday, March 15, 2019, 11:00 a.m. CrossCity Christian Church, 2777 E. Nees Avenue, Fresno, California 93720
Spectrum is giving Huge & Rude a run for their money. We want to switch: landlines, television, internet. As with everything, it is easy-peasy when you talk to a salesman but muy complicated in reality. So far, we are still with Huge & Rude, and our phones have been out multiple times in 2019. Plus, the internet is too slow to send my wildflower book to the printer.
Books are never quick. Mineral King Wildflowers: Common Names is supposed to be in hand for an April 27 signing. No matter how many times I proof or pass it to someone else to proof, another error gets found. And it got bid as a black and white book instead of a full color one – ouch.
Parkas aren’t waterproof – nylon, goretex, nope. 4 different ones within the past 32 years. Polyester might be waterproof. Probably not. My walking buddy and I have had lots of opportunities to test various parkas during February.
In order to better publicize a book, authors should have a website (oh-oh, my books are hitch-hiking along with my art sites) with a media kit. It took almost an entire day to write all the little parts and pieces required for this, but now I have one on my other website, The Cabins of Wilsonia. This is all required in order to be considered to make a presentation to the Fresno County Friends of the Library about my book The Cabins of Wilsonia. Yeppers, I have a Media Kit page on that site, which will serve as a model for Mineral King Wildflowers.
I am a Questioner. This is how I learn. Here is a question: Who wants to go from Bakersfield to Merced, or the reverse direction? That’s what California’s infamous bullet train is now reduced to. I will probably ride it, if they allow 100 year olds on.
Did you know that corn will kill us? I got snagged into one of those click-bait websites with the line of “which vegetable do you need to stop eating immediately?” Then the dude talked forever about his various credentials before finally saying it was corn. Sure, Mr., thanks. I saved you the temptation of following that link and waiting to hear which vegetable will kill you. You’re welcome.
Now I need soothing, and perhaps you do too. In fact, let’s change gears entirely and I’ll show you a lovely late afternoon of feeding cattle from the back of a little ATV with the Captain.
They heard the machine and all headed right toward us.
Can’t remember (or tell from this photo) if this was The Bull. I was so enchanted by the golden late afternoon light that I forgot to be scared. Besides, don’t bulls have horns? I know nothing except that cow poo is very slippery.
I’ve been warned many times to not trust Brahma Mama, and now that she has a calf, to be especially careful. Not sure what that means when standing around tossing flakes of hay toward her.
Look at these little beeves! (Is that the plural of beef?)
This blondie might not have any teeth, which is why she prefers eating the little bits that have fallen into the back of the machine. Her ears look soft, but she doesn’t want them touched.
My view from the so-called “safe” place inside the machine. I love this light.
And thus we conclude another February, a month that I find way too short here in Central California.
February is my favorite month around here. It is the beginning of spring, with apologies to my readers in less temperate climates, who might be a little less enthusiastic about this month. Sometimes I take a break in the middle of the day to enjoy Three Rivers during this exciting weather period.
Upstream view of the middle fork of the Kaweah River from the Dinely Bridge.
Downstream view of same.
Before retirement, Trail Guy wore green pants with a gray shirt. Now, he wears the opposite.
A regular peculiar sight on the Dinely Bridge.
Primary colors in my yard, and some bright sunshine in the middle of a rainy day.
Back in the studio, listening to pouring rain on my metal roof.
The flowering quince outside the kitchen window attracts birds. More accurately, it is the bird feeder that attracts them.
Here is a different kind of bird. I am more interested in flower names than bird names.
Every year I ask this unanswerable question: Why can’t February have 31 days instead of August?
Prepare yourself for a long essay today. I hope you can recover from this major bloviation by tomorrow when I post about early spring in Three Rivers. Yes, I still work . . . you can see more paintings in progress next week. But February is my favorite month, so for now I am choosing to show you the beauty of Three Rivers instead of paintings in progress.
While at Kaweah Lake recently with Trail Guy, it occurred to me that our lake can serve as a metaphor for life in Tulare County. Think about these comparisons.
Tulare County is in the Central Valley, California’s “flyover country”, meaning the part people just blow through or over to get where they really want to go, like San Francisco, Napa Valley, Los Angeles, Death Valley, or Yosemite (“Oh dear, must we first go to Fresno? horrors!”).
While puttering around on the lake bottom (more around the edges, because it has been filling up lately), I thought of all the people flying past on the highway above, probably unaware of what the lake below has to offer. Isn’t a lake for sailing? This one, not so much. How about water skiing? Sure, in the earlier half of summer, not in February. Looks empty, meh, keep driving.
Someone’s beloved home was once here.
Here was the stone fireplace; over there must have been the bathroom. A small living space with large views in a great location.
Tulare County is poor and uneducated, with bad air, fat people, high welfare, diabetes and teen pregnancies. Not too appealing, eh?
Kaweah Lake’s drained floor is kind of cruddy. We pick up aluminum cans and shake out the mud and gross stuff before squashing them. We slip and slide on the slimy mud that is coating the old road. We pick cockleburs out of our shoelaces and the shaggy edges of my unhemmed jeans. There is a lot of trash and broken things. It is a cheap place to visit for recreation compared to Sequoia—$4-5 per car instead of $30-35 for Sequoia. (Can’t remember exactly, so I am guessing at the actual numbers.)
Tulare County has been my home for almost 60 years (minus a few misguided years in college), and I work hard to find the good things here, particularly as an artist, looking for beautiful ways to represent my turf.
The lake bottom has treasures, whether it is aluminum cans for my friend’s Hawaii fund, Indian grinding holes, or an occasional blue marble or oyster shell (mysterious finds, indeed). Don’t forget, it also has beautiful views, lots of birds, and a few wildflowers too.
Tulare County’s main industry is agriculture. We feed the world, producing more food than any other place in the country (except Fresno County, because we trade off with them to be king).
Kaweah Lake was built as water storage for agriculture (but flood control was its primary purpose).
What is this thing??Disc Golf Association? A frisbee golf course!Sometimes there are surprising peeks at beautiful views.
Tulare County has Sequoia National Park, a major recreational destination.
Kaweah Lake is a countywide draw for those who love to recreate on water.
Where in your life are you overlooking beauty, history, treasures, and recreational opportunities right under your nose, because it seems meh, boring, cruddy, and beneath you?
It might be springlike in Three Rivers in January, but it is winter in Mineral King. Trail Guy made a day trip up there to check out the snow and the cabins. The photos look almost like black and white; I’m into green more than into white so I went walking up Salt Creek that day.
I learned some hard things in January, but will only share a few because many are too personal for the World Wide Web.
Unexpected death creates a ton of work.
The more animals you own, the more you will spend in time, feed, and vet bills.
It is horrible to lose a close friend. Horrible horrible horrible, like losing a family member.
Cow poo is very slippery. (I hope those jeans will come clean. . .)
Cowgirls don’t wear leggings, pointy-toed boots, or cowboy hats.
When you feel an urgency to clear your schedule and complete tasks, follow that prompting, because it is probably God helping you be ready for an emergency.
If you bake bread and undercook a batch, there is no need to put it back in the oven later. It won’t fix the raw center, even after another hour at the original temperature.
When we have had rain and the sun is out in January in Central California, it seems like spring. Sure, we think it is cold out, but compared to places with real winter, this is very springlike.
On a walk while visiting my friend, AKA The Captain, this was our view.
Look at this classic barn, still in use, not leaning over.
Same neighborhood, this barn is both retired and tired.
And here is another barn, very picturesque. Wooden barns beat metal barns or pole barns for paintability and photogenicness. (Is there a real word that means that?)
There are several streams in this area of the Central California foothills, which is about 1000 feet higher than Three Rivers.
Gotta dig this unit out before a horse eats it and dies. Horses are fragile creatures with delicate digestive systems. (Seems that way to this non-cowgirl. . . )
Ernie is beautiful, but a little bit rude to me, except when I am feeding him little pieces of peppermint. When I feed him hay, he jerks it out of my arms before I can drop or throw it. Rude.
The chickens are not rude; they provide lots of eggs (not the rooster, of course, because he provides beauty and noise.)
These paperwhites are blooming profusely in my yard back home in Three Rivers. See? Spring in January!
My wildly resourceful Christmas wrap, symbolic of my gifts of learning to you each month.
Do you like those end of the year round-up lists? Here’s one for you, almost entirely made up of links to previous posts. (Each one will open in a new tab.) We remember the things we review, so let’s go. . .
We have documentation of 84 new things learned in 2018. (and probably 1/2 of them already forgotten). Here are 3 more from December (much of what I learned this month isn’t worth sharing publicly).
You can find a doctor online and have him call a prescription into your local drug store! What? I had no idea, and don’t know how to do this, but it is good to know, and I know who to ask for more details.
Green tomato pie is not worth making unless you have no apples; if you insist on making it, 1-1/2 cups of sugar is too much.
Frost-on-the-Pumpkin pie is worth making if you don’t mind 2 sessions in the kitchen and using every bowl you possess.
Here is a mystery for you to contemplate. (This is like my nieces and nephews on Instagram, posting photos that cause nothing but questions. Aren’t I modern?)
I wish you a year of learning in 2019!
Now I will be quiet for a week. Fret not, I’ll be back.
Tulare County is in the Central Valley, California’s “flyover country”, meaning the part people just blow through or over to get where they really want to go, like San Francisco, Napa Valley, Los Angeles, Death Valley, or Yosemite (“Oh dear, must we first go to Fresno? horrors!”). 
Tulare County is poor and uneducated, with bad air, fat people, high welfare, diabetes and teen pregnancies. Not too appealing, eh?
Tulare County has been my home for almost 60 years (minus a few misguided years in college), and I work hard to find the good things here, particularly as an artist, looking for beautiful ways to represent my turf.
Tulare County’s main industry is agriculture. We feed the world, producing more food than any other place in the country (except Fresno County, because we trade off with them to be king). 
