I wrote this post at the end of March and forgot to publish it. Will any of these photos translate into paintings? Maybe. No decisions yet. Just grabbing beauty when it is available.
The Lake isn’t actually in Three Rivers. The upper end is close; the dam end is closer to Lemon Cove. The lake level is even higher now, and the hills are mostly brown.
Some years there are fabulous lupine in great swaths at the water’s edge; they show in person, but not so well in these photos.
A popular turnout near the middle of The Lake (not out on the water—along the road 1/2 way between the intake and the dam) often has people pulled over taking photos. Me too. It is almost impossible to find a place to take the photo which includes Alta Peak and poppies. The poppies are excellent in the roadcuts where there is no shoulder, and the slopes are steep.
One day we were down the hill, we stopped by a friend’s orange grove and were probably 2-3 days early in terms of the blossoms being out. The oranges are fabulous. We expected to glean, but the grove hadn’t been picked yet. I gathered more photos for potential paintings.
Now get back to painting, Central California Artist!!
Today’s post has one token photo, and it has nothing to do with my normal topics. It is just me, expressing myself. Next week I’ll get back to business.
Trail Guy is the dinner cook around here—BBQ meat, giant salad. Simple, plain, really good. I fix dinner about once a week, normally just something I call Slop in a Skillet, recognizable plain food, mostly vegetables and meat, no recipe, no muss, no fuss.
Last week I decided to try a recipe called Husband’s Delight from an online acquaintance. It used ingredients that I am familiar with and seemed fairly straightforward. (Sometimes I am just adventuresome like that.)
I tried to follow the recipe, but WHY did it require a tablespoon of sugar? Nope, not this little gray duck. I didn’t have the right noodles, so I used a variety of whole wheat pasta shapes that are in my pantry, mostly going to waste because we are being careful to not become diabetic, and apparently carbohydrates are The Enemy. (All those lies about eating whole wheat pasta. . . who knows what “healthy” means anymore??)
I didn’t eat or cook ground beef for a couple of decades, so I was slightly revolted by the process. It was frozen in a tube that was hard to open and it bled on the counter. Ick.
Onions are also something I rarely use. I don’t like how they smell raw or during cooking or how sometimes they make my eyes water. I hacked off the amount called for, more or less, and put the rest in a ziplock bag in the freezer. I wonder if it will be useless later? Probably should have chopped it first, but I wanted to finish up.
And why did the recipe call a mix of sour cream and cream cheese “cheese sauce”? Nope, it was gloppy and got layered as plops, not sauce.
What happened to the grated mozzarella on the top?? It vanished into the 9×13” pan of “layers” once the thing was baked.
What an enormous output of energy! It took a long time, fumbling around with packages of this and that, oops, need another bowl, another pan, grab the colander, where is the grater, my hands are a mess, wash them for the umpteenth time, open another package of something—where are the scissors, nope, my hands are a mess again.
The thing about casseroles that seems so wasteful is that they have to be cooked in various steps on top of the stove and then baked in the oven. No wonder all those ‘50s housewives were on Valium.
Finally got the concoction in the oven and realized there were no vegetables for dinner. I was fed up with all that prep, so instead of making a salad, I chopped up a few fresh veggies and called it good.
So Trail Guy, AKA The Husband, was pleased with the casserole. I told him to be sure to thoroughly enjoy Husband’s Delight, because I am never making it again. I would have been a terrible housewife in the ‘50s. Probably would have taken up smoking.
If you made it to the end, here is a painting for you of a red pepper. Seems appropriate.
These are photos that could have been used in yesterday’s posts about what I learned in April. But since I am not working very much and Mineral King isn’t open yet, I saved some of them for today.
This white flower is a brodiaea that comes near the end of spring. Each one of those buds will pop open.
Lemon geranium is easy to start in pots, and I keep some ready to share on a regular basis. They came in handy when I needed a good ground cover for the vacation rental where I planted things last week.
While doing a bit of weeding at church, I realized that there were baby grasses of that roundy-moundy grass plant. I had just bought a new trowel, and this bowl was covering an irrigation timer, so I helped myself. Then I remembered to take a photo after we were on the way home from errands; hence the library book beneath the bowl.
My vacation rental manager/friend texted me from a nursery to ask if she should buy some society garlic. “Absolutely not!” said I. I have enough for a small island nation, right here in my herb garden.
She and I have landscaped an entire rental that began as squirrel holes and weeds. We did it on a shoestring, using plants that self-sow, rooting cuttings in dirt, rooting cuttings in water, and digging up plants all over my yard. It looks pretty great, albeit not formally landscaped. We definitely made some mistakes when buying plants, not understanding how large they might get. That’s okay—she now has someone who does mow/blow/go with occasional pruning, me for weeding, and the pair of us for transplanting.
When you live in a small town like Three Rivers, you get to know lots of people. This brings opportunities to try things, to experiment, to help friends out: hence, my “side-hustle” as a gardener.
Many people complain about vacation rentals, and it is true that there are too many in Three Rivers. “Too many” because normal people have been priced out of the market. Our town is hollowed out of actual residents—folks who put children in school, join clubs, attend churches, serve on local water boards, and lend you an egg or a can of tomato sauce in a pinch.
However, those vacation rentals are well-maintained, well-landscaped, pay their bills, don’t have barking dogs, and don’t park on the lawn. They also provide gainful employment for locals and people who come from down the hill to work (because they can’t afford to live here). Sigh.
1. Here is a fun list of 100 ways to live better: Less Wrong (Warning: needless occasional vulgar language and some controversial suggestions with an occasional gem.)
2. The “platform” where my blog lives did a tech update again. This time it actually improved things. Now when you are a subscriber, you can see photos in your email from the blog. I wasted countless hours trying to figure out why this stopped working for some people about a year ago. Apparently it was caused by the “platform”. (It surprises me how many of my subscribers don’t know how to click on the title of the blog post in the email and go to my website to read the blog and see the photos.)
3. Sometimes I don’t want to paint*. I had a week like that in April, and it coincided with the need to pull weeds at one vacation rental and do some planting at another. It wasn’t hot, the mosquitos weren’t out, the satisfaction level was very high, and I got paid. With art, one produces without any guarantee of an income, so instant gratification is an occasional threat to the production of art.
4. Have you wondered why we are assaulted by teevee ads for prescription medicine? We aren’t doctors and can’t prescribe, so why are they telling us about this stuff? I learned that the reason is if we tell our doctor to prescribe something and (s)he doesn’t comply (imagine telling THE DOCTOR WHO KNOWS ABOUT MEDICINE what to prescribe!), then something goes wrong in our bodies which we blame on not getting that medicine, we can sue the doctor for not following our recommendation. As usual, follow the money. (Why would anyone want to be a doctor these days??)
5. It’s extra hard to find a good used car right now. Did you know that if an old car is running at all, it will probably sell for $1500? I’ve learned this because Fernando has cancer. He’ll be okay for a little while, but it is (past) time to find a car. It must be Honda or Toyota. Since I’ve owned nothing but three-pedal Honda Accords since 1981, I may need to do some mental readjusting and accept whatever I can find. (Please please, not red or black…)
6. Holland Mountain is a new name to me. It is close to my house. Why have I never heard of this before? I can’t find it on a map. Who names these places? Why do people know about this but not me when it is in my backyard??
7. Anne Lamott says “All truth is paradox.” I’m not sure what she means by this, but I think it might be similar to something I am noticing more and more. “Bury coffee grounds to enrich your soil”; “coffee grounds have caffeine which is an herbicide”. “Put crushed eggshells in the dirt beneath your tomatoes”; “Eggshells do nothing in the soil for tomatoes.“ Thus and such is likely causing your problem,” says one doctor; “Poppycock,” says another. “First prize!” declares an art contest judge; “The emperor has no clothes,” says a regular person.
8. The website called “Bookpecker” which summarized books has gone the way of all flesh. Phooey. That was helpful site, but it probably got shut down by booksellers. Or maybe there were too many people like me with a giant list of books to be read (called the TBR list) who were looking for a shortcut, and the site couldn’t make money.
Thus we conclude another month of living and learning. Thank you for joining me in a month of semi-retired life, with more soaking up spring than producing art.
*A friend said to me, “Yesterday I did nothing all day and today I realized I wasn’t finished yet.”
The old rhyme “April showers bring May flowers” isn’t exactly true in Three Rivers. Here it is more that April showers prolong March flowers.
The turkeys are very busy right now. Too bad we don’t know where they lay their eggs; on the other hand, if you found a turkey egg, it might have a partially formed turkey inside. Guess I’ll take a pass on that situation.
These wildflowers are so predictably fabulous on the slope behind our house, and then we hire someone to weedeat them in early May. Weedeating would be a way to earn a steady income around here in the spring.
I walked across the middle fork of the Kaweah River last week. This is looking upstream (the left photo) and downstream (bet you can guess which photo) from that large bridge. It is the road that we call “North Fork”, in spite of the fact that it initially crosses the middle fork.
We walked in a new place last week. It was hot and dusty, so we didn’t go far. The green is hanging on by its fingernails.
The hill with 3 bumps is called Blossom Peak, unless you are a purist. Then you call one side “Blossom” and the other “Britten”. The details and precision of which bump represents which name eludes me.
The distant peak on the right is Case Mountain. Lots of people say they have hiked Case Mt. or sometimes they claim to have climbed it. If this is so, they went about 20 miles round trip, trespassing almost the entire way, and going through 7-9 private gates. Just want to set the record straight about that. I recently learned that a peak in that area (more like a tall steep hill) is called Holland Mountain. This is a new name for me, and I need to study a map to understand where it is. I love maps, learning new things, and knowing all I can about this county that’s been my home for 65-1/2 years.
I thought that perhaps this was a sketchy photo of the river in terms of painting, but since I had plenty of film (OF COURSE I AM KIDDING—film?? what’s film?), I took the shot anyway. All those stringy wild grape vines, the indecipherable brush. . . nope.
Thus we conclude another peek into Three Rivers in the spring. I want it to be spring forever.
Not quite as pretty as the morning when I took the photo to paint Sunrise over the Kaweah River.
T (my walking partner) and I see these bunnies almost every morning. We don’t understand how they survive.
Blue dick and common madia are still going strong.
It was a morning to spend in the yard. If I wasn’t such a lenient boss, I’d have to fire myself. I seem to be semi-retired these days.
It is so interesting that there is one white iris on each side of the path, and they stand above the others. I planted these bulbs in autumn of 2023 and have no memory of arranging them in any particular order.
This segment of the yard is all pinky-purply. It has one purple iris, lots of freeway daisies, several redbud trees, some lavender and some lilac. Guess you have to be here to see it all in bloom at once.
Just a thought about color for you: there are 3 plants named for various shades of purple.
This is an official complaint about modern life, rife with technological obstacles.
In paying my quarterly sales tax, the computer said I needed to verify myself because it didn’t recognize my browser (WHY NOT, YOU IDIOTIC WEBSITE?) when I logged into the state tax collection page (Used to be called Board of Equalization, but now the name is longer and I don’t care enough to remember it). So I had to put in my password, wait for an email with another code, enter that into the site, and then proceed. (It might have required my password a second time). Then I went through the exercises to pay the sales tax, but before I could pay it, I had to enter my password again. After that, in order to finish the transaction, it asked for my password yet again. Why is this necessary?? How is this in any manner efficient? (HEY ELON, COME TO SACRAMENTO AND GET THIS MESS CLEANED UP!)
I have a credit card for my business which I rarely use. The company sent a letter saying that my information needs to be verified or updated or somehow enhanced, and I can oh so conveniently go to their website to do this. However, the website requires a user name and a password, something that I have never set up. I think it might be time to let that credit card go the way of all flesh.
Some lab work is required, perhaps a week before the next medical appointment. I needed to know how much in advance the blood needed to get its results back, so I called the clinic; “Clinic Name, Can you hold?” I hung up and found the number for the lab; “Lab, Can you hold?” I suppose I should be grateful there is a human answering instead of a robot. The human immediately recited, “Date of Birth?” I said, “Is that required to know how long it takes for the results?” (Hurricane-sized sigh)
I may need to fly somewhere soon. Will I need to get a “real ID” to board a plane? What is my current ID—fake?? When I last renewed my driver license, I passed on the option to get a “real ID” because when Trail Guy tried to do this a few years ago, the bureaucrat at the DMV told him he didn’t have the proper papers with him, despite bringing EXACTLY what was indicated on their website. (Thank goodness my passport is still valid). If a California driver license isn’t “real”, then why is it required in order to drive, see a doctor, write a check, or who knows what else? What would happen if I showed my library card instead?
So, tell me: do all these companies have their ducks in a row? Or are their ducks so multitudinous that it isn’t possible to line them up?
Or do I not have all my ducks in a row because I CAN’T STAND ALL THIS STUFF?
Please excuse me for shouting. I’m thankful to live in Three Rivers, in Tulare County, where eventually you can find a human, probably someone who knows someone you know.
Peeps aren’t ducks; they are marshmallows. But I thought we could use a light-hearted photo about now.
Tomorrow we can look at some photos, just fun, perhaps inspirational toward a new attitude or some new paintings.
1. Mike Rowe’s podcast, The Way I Heard It, is a great source of learning. In relistening to episode 271, an interview with Michael Shellenberger, I thought Shellenberger was stealing my thoughts. He said he drives a 2002 Honda Accord because he loves it, he is cheap, and dumping all that steel and other material to get some modestly better fuel efficiency just isn’t worth it. Amen, brother!! (My car beat his by 6 years, but since the interview was recorded in 2022, I don’t know if he is still driving his Accord.
2. Food for thought from Eric Rhoads (the one in charge of my week of plein air painting in Monterey): “Most of us complain about not having enough time while simultaneously binge-watching entire seasons of shows we don’t even particularly enjoy. The paradox of modern existence is that we have more free time than any humans in history, yet feel more time-starved than ever. Perhaps the answer lies not in having more time, but in living more fully in the time we have — in choosing experiences over possessions, creation over consumption, and presence over distraction.”
3. I thought about all the unique parts of March: the only month with a command—MARCH FO[U]RTH!, Pi Day —3.14, Ides (whatever that means) –March 15, St. Patrick’s Day—March 17, the first day of spring, in some years Easter, and in all years both of my sisters’ birthdays.
LEARNINGS
1. “All frills and no knickers” is the British way of saying “Big hat, no cattle”. How did I learn this? From Sandra Busby’s blog. She is a fantabulous fantastical painter. (Wish I could take lessons from her!)
2. “Cavil” —a verb: to quibble; to argue or find fault over trivial matters.
3. Grated avocado seed in 70% alcohol is a topical pain reliever. . . maybe. My DeQuervain tenosynovitis might be slightly better since using this, but it might have gotten better on its own anyway (Been plaguing me since October) Or, it could only be wishful thinking. A person can adjust to a certain level of steady pain. (I’d rather not, but as a resident of Realville, I can accept this truth.)
Avocado, oil painting, 6×6”, private collection
4. James Clear is a wise man. A friend gave me his book Atomic Habits, and I subscribe to his weekly newsletter. This was in last week’s:
“Take all the energy you spend on… worrying about the future, worrying about what others think, worrying about if you might fail… and channel that energy into one useful action within your control.
5. I read a lot, both fiction and non-fiction. Fiction is a great escape, but I am tired of adultery being normalized, bodies in trunks, and people who do blatantly stupid things (which of course is what makes the stories). I went searching, and for the first time in my life, I found a series of “Christian fiction” books that I really liked. Prolly won’t resonate with you all, but just in case you like that genre (or like me, have always disliked it), the author is Neta Jackson. (For the series to better make sense, start with The Yada Yada Prayer Group—see? you who didn’t abandon this paragraph at the word “adultery” or at the word “Christian” will probably jump ship at “prayer”.)
6. I learned to shorten palm trees on a pencil drawing using Photoshop Jr. The customer requested this—I just work here.
Yeppers, it is April First, but as unusual as this post is, it is entirely sincere.
Your Central California artist lives a very frugal life. Last Friday I became aware (yet again) that frugality is just automatic, built into my DNA perhaps. Have a look at the stuff that fills my days off and brings me great satisfaction.
Gardening
Trail Guy made the top rack from old mule shoes and the bottom one from the head of a garden rake. Most of these tools are second-hand.
The daffodil bulbs were bought in January, when they were greatly discounted; the bearded iris were a gift from a friend who was thinning hers; the dutch iris was probably a bulb on sale and seems to be the last one standing.
Sewing
Many years ago, I bought a tablecloth to make valances for my kitchen windows. When I washed them last week, they disintegrated. The rest of the tablecloth was in a closet, waiting to be turned into replacements. This time they aren’t very ruffled, because there wasn’t quite enough fabric. (Nobody cares.)
About 15 years ago I stocked up on the jeans that fit me best, which meant they all expired at the same time. I tried iron patches (wouldn’t stick), sewn on patches (ugly, but worked until the pants wore out above and below the patches), and made cut-offs from a few pair. Then I saw a picture on my favorite blog (The Frugal Girl) of several things you can do with old jeans. Since it rained last Saturday, and since my sewing machine* was set up, I made this ridiculous apron! (not finished in this photo).
It isn’t very frugal to use time and electricity to sew something that I don’t need, but I can’t stand waste. (or fraud or abuse, but that isn’t what we are discussing here.)
More Gardening
My broccoli crop was pathetic this year: look at the yield from 5 plants:
After I “harvested” the heads in the colander, I ignored the plants for a few more weeks. When it was time to yank them, I was able to get another small handful. These are good chopped up in scrambled eggs. Yea us, eating fresh vegetables. (I’d rather have ice cream, but not in my scrambled eggs.)
Then I planted the basil that rooted in the kitchen window sill all winter, taken from cuttings off last year’s basil. It’s kind of sorry-looking but as with all my gardening, it is another triumph of hope over experience. I started with 6-7 plants, but some croaked when transplanted.
Others broke when I was putting them in the planting bed, so of course I moved them back to little bottles of water on the window sill.
Those bottles initially contained Trader Joe’s balsamic vinegar. I pried the pouring cork/plugs from them, and they are perfect for this purpose—cute, small mouth, and no lid to keep track of. Good thing I didn’t learn that Trader Joe’s adds sugar to its balsamic vinegar until I had a nice collection of these.
Among my friends, this sort of thing is normal. My closest friends choose to go for walks together, not go out to lunch. We get a kick out of figuring out how to do things, telling one another how we saved money, and sharing extra stuff, whether it is garden plants, fabric, produce, baking, items bought on sale, or ideas.
How are you frugal? Is this normal for you too?
*A Singer Featherweight, made in 1959, a gift from my grandmother. The plastic handle did not go the distance, so Trail Guy replaced it with a chain.
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*.
This one of about nine mailboxes scattered around our extensive yard; they are tool containers so I don’t have to hike a mile for a trowel.
This is flowering quince, not redbud, which is actually pink.
*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!
