This is an undoctored photo of a daffodil. In my regular walking route in Three Rivers, I encounter a yard with several of these. Really! I used to think all daffodils were yellow – many different shades and combinations, but always yellow. Guess I was wrong!
I may have mentioned that I walk a lot. April 25 is coming, and my friend Nancy and I plan to walk 21 miles in Monterey. Nancy and I get together just once a week for our long training walks, so during the week we are walking alone. My walks are usually in Three Rivers. This provides a great deal of time to look at one’s surroundings, think, pray, mumble to oneself about how long it takes, use a borrowed iPod, plan blog posts, fret over the amount of work one isn’t doing while walking. . . a person could stay very busy while walking! Here is something that struck me this week – there are a number of peculiar items on one of my regular routes. Let’s start with Ruby:
Ruby is a boxer with a leopard spotted couch, complete with an awning for shade. This couch is parked directly along-side the road, and Ruby watches people go by. I make a point of greeting and petting her. If I happen to be wearing shorts, she will get up and lick my knees. Now, that is peculiar!
Purple, or “violet”, as it is more correctly called, is a color I haven’t liked very well most of my life. A few years ago, something changed, and I began to crave periwinkle, that almost blue shade of violet. Think lupine, brodeia, dutch iris. . . Someone told me that as we age, the cones in our eyes see purple better than when we were young. Oh-oh – is that the reason? (Brings to mind that poem “When I am an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple”.) While on our photo trip over Yokohl, I was knitting a sweater in that wonderful bluey purple color; I actually asked Michael to stop next to a lupine so I could hold the sweater out the window and compare the colors. I was thrilled to see they were an exact match! (You just never know what will set off a color junkie.) I have found that to be a difficult color to mix, working only with the primaries, that has been a difficult color to mix. I finally asked Diana Moses Botkin about it, and she advised me just to buy a tube of violet! Wow – if she says it is okay, it must be! Just one other thing – I’ve noticed many men refer to burgundy or maroon as “purple”! I wonder why. . . can’t get a helpful explanation other than “It looks purple to me!”
Sweater colored lupine (ok, I might have messed around with the color in this photo!)
Periwinkle, the plant (also known as the dreaded invasive vinca major)
Lavender and I have a history. My older sister had a lavender dress that I thought was Absoloootely Beyoootiful, and I couldn’t wait for her to outgrow it. After about a zillion years, I finally made it to 3rd grade, and the dress was finally mine. I tried it on, stood in front of Mom’s full-length mirror to admire myself and was horrified to discover that my skin looked yellow! T I ran from the room, yelling for Mom! She said, “My goodness! Looks like lavendar isn’t your color!” It was a terrible moment, one that sealed a poor opinion in me toward lavender and its stronger cousin purple (or more correctly known as “violet”). Since then I’ve learned that anyone can wear almost any color. It is the shade that matters, the hue, the variation. That particular shade had too much red in it, and still makes me look like an advanced case of jaundice. Put me in a shade with lots of blue, and the compliments fly my way. Lavender, violet, purple, lilac – there are many names for this color.
Lilac, the plant
A few months ago I was at Creekside Yarns, knitting with April and getting some help with a project. As we sat there together, I kept seeing the bins of sale yarn and they were bugging me. Finally I told April that I just HAD to organize the yarn by color. She just looked at me for a moment, and then said, “Color Junkie.” WOW! THAT’S IT! I am a Color Junkie! After she outed me in that small but momentous revelation, all the evidence of being a color junkie is surfacing in my memory. Here is the first one: as a kid, I remember lying on my bed just contemplating the colors in the bedspread. Suddenly I was totally captivated by the blue – it just mesmerized me with its beauty. I jumped up, ran to find Mom and tell her. Lacking an understanding of my Color Junkie beginnings, all I could think to express was this: “My favorite color isn’t pink anymore – it’s blue!” I’m sure she was puzzled what brought it all on; I’m thankful she just kindly listened. Here is a look at part of my blue obsession:
favorite flower
a painting subject I couldn’t resist and will probably paint over and over
my kitchen floor
chair in my herb garden
Because the redbud wasn’t fully out yet, I had to return to BLM land yesterday. Here is the only photo that really shows the across-the-canyon display:
It isn’t paint-able for me – but perhaps a abstract painter or a weaver (HEY NIKKI, you listening??) might find inspiration here. Of course, I could always get yarn in these colors. . . of course, I could always get more yarn!
Instead of confining my adventures to Three Rivers and Mineral King, I went into Yokohl Valley. Not sure if this beautiful place will survive because of the plans of Boswell to create a new town. The building up of Orange County in my childhood horrified me – it looked less rural every time we visited Grandma or Grammy. It would break my heart to see that happen here in Tulare County. Yes, I know everyone has to live somewhere; please, let it be somewhere else! Michael came along as my driver so I could fill my eyes and decide where to stop without causing wrecks. We worked the first layer of the road along with a wee bit of trespassing over the course of 2 days. The flowers were fantastic. It is hard for me to compose shots of just hills and grass; my better pictures involved fences, trees and/or flowing water. Here are a few ideas for upcoming paintings:
A mile above my house is a beautiful place which goes by many different names: Case Mountain, Salt Creek, Craig Ranch, and BLM. I call it the last one, which, if you are not a Westerner, you might not know means “Bureau of Land Management”, which is under the Department of the Interior. But enough blah, blah, blah – you probably came here for the pictures.
Earl McKee keeps his horses here. In the morning before the sun hits, they have a little convention that looks like they are frozen in place. It was chilly!
The other JB and I were headed into the sunshine.
There are 2 seasonal waterfalls up there.
Did you know “cataract” is another word for waterfall? The dictionary says it is “a large waterfall”; I wonder if “large” refers to volume or height.
The variety of wildflowers was stunning, and I am rather proud of knowing the names of all these. I’m content with photos; JB wanted some to press and dry. Reminds me of my great Aunt Mary, who lived in Three Rivers when I was young. She made beautiful stationery with dried wildflowers and taught me their names.
We walked for a little over 3 miles before having to turn around. The only consolation in cutting our walk short is that the Redbud aren’t yet in bloom and give us a reason to return soon.
I’m writing blog entries when I should be painting. Painting is supposed to be my first priority now, so anything else produces guilt. But, I feel compelled to stay in touch, and tell you about another trip into Mineral King. As usual, it provided more inspiration, recreation and good times with Michael in the snow.
There has been avalanche activity in the valley. First, a slide came down off spud mountain. The real name is Potato Hill because it reminded the Irish miners of rows of potatoes in the fields of home. Those rows are avalanche chutes. Here is one result:
This is a little shed that prolly needed rebuilding anyway. . . out of respect for my friends and neighbors, I will leave this without identification, and will also not show the cabin that got knocked off its posts. (It doesn’t look nearly as dramatic in the photos as real life anyway!)
Another slide came down Chihuahua, which is the drainage across the valley from Spring Creek (about 1/2 mile before Crystal).
It is all snowy, so how do you know this is a slide instead of just snowfall? It is fan shaped, like an alluvial fan but made of snow instead of dirt. And, it covered the creek that is exposed in other parts of the valley:
There are also broken branches and other debris, but it isn’t that pretty in a photo, so I skipped that part of today’s lesson in Mineral King Winter. (There won’t be a test or any homework, no worries!)
