Thoughts | Cabin Art

What I Learned in April

It feels as if I already told you what I learned in all those listicles. These are just occurrences in my strange little world, not things I learned.

My 12th blogiversary came and went without fanfare. I have published 2,816 times since April 15, 2008. Bless you for being here!
I forgot a close friend’s 60th birthday; she has forgiven me.
A quote to rework my website made my head spin; unsure of how to proceed.
I miss the bulk bins at Winco almost as much as the library (although they were not a weekly visitation site for me like the library).
A friend called #Hastag Hostess has encouraged me to post on Instagram 5 days a week. I am trying, but it ain’t natural-like. If you are into that particular thing, I am #janabotkinart.
I have a pile of things to donate to the Goodwill but it isn’t open. Neither is the local thrift shop, but there is a leave-and-take bookshelf out front.
Our cats are starting to rebel at their curfew, mostly Jackson.

How about a list of books I read:

Salt & Light, or Reading Rabbit, oil on board, 11×14″, Not for sale

The Shell Seekers by Rosamunde Pilcher
Coming Home by Rosamunde Pilcher
Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher
Get Your Life Back by John Eldredge
Storybrand by Donald Miller
Don’t Make Me Think (still reading this one)
Words that Work by Frank Luntz (ditto)
Hearing God by Dallas Willard (ditto)

What did you read?

What do you miss?

What is taking place in your strange little world?

Sunday Good Things

Today I am going to overwhelm you with good things. It takes many postives to outweigh the negatives in Normal Times. Right now we are not in Normal Times. Duh.

I sat by the river with a friend in chairs spaced far apart. First time we’ve seen each other in 6 weeks, and she lives 1/4 mile away.

The weeds that pass for a lawn in spring are still green.

I love spring. Love green. Love being in Three Rivers in spring.

Another friend stopped by with roses (in a BLUE bottle!) and strawberries.

The Botmobile is back home, and Tucker is pleased with the return to normal.

I found the tag for these! *Osteospermum,* “Zion copper amethyst”. (Thank you Joyce, for sharing yours with me too!)

The bank behind the house has a fabulous variety of foothill wildflowers.

A morning walk with yet another friend. . .

. . . who marveled with me about the light. . .

. . . and gave me some grapes. (We all seem to be feeding one another whenever we have the opportunity.)

The snowball bush (a spirea) with pink roses in front is a joy in the spring.

Because it is Sunday, here is the ultimate good thing.

You will show me the path of life; in Your presence is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11

More Thoughts on the Shut-Down

People who work in grocery stores, post offices and are delivery drivers are the salt of the earth.
I am more of a hugger than I realized. Gotta stop that impulse!
Why are different organizations raising money for healthcare workers when it seems that the newly unemployed waiters and waitresses and restaurant cooks are the ones who need the money?
It is impossible to ever finish either yard work or housework.
Everyone responds differently to a crisis, particularly a crisis no one has experienced before and with all sorts of conflicting instructions.
I have everything I need and much of what I want, including music, books, and yarn, and yet it is so much fun to order new things.
Fiction is a great escape.
Any excuse for ice cream or chocolate will do.
There are so many ways to reach out to other people, and so many people are using them to say, “How are you doing?” as a real question instead of just a standard line of greeting.
People who are in separate locations but can make music as if they are all in the same place just boggle my mind.
I love oranges, orange groves, and orange blossoms.

Thoughts on the Shut-Down

Lots of thoughts have come to me as we are shut down. Some are new, some are just a reinforcement of something I’ve already known or suspected.

Life has handed us lemons; let’s make lemonade.

News exists to alarm, excite, upset, and capture attention. This is more important to news channels than to inform.
Everything can be politicized, even something as universal as a virus.
The library is a bigger part of my life than I realized. I have BOUGHT 3, no, 4 BOOKS in the past several weeks, something I usually refrain from doing because I don’t like to own too much stuff. (All non-fiction, so they will be underlined and referred to for awhile.)
Growing food is very difficult. I thought I had figured out how to grow broccoli by protecting it underneath from gophers, around from deer, and above from birds. The aphids snuck in the remaining holes.
Rural living has lots of advantages over urban life.
Staying stocked up on essentials is a good way to live at all times. Not hoarding, but simply stocked up.
Neighbors are a hugely helpful part of life. These are conversations I’ve participated in or overheard: “Do you have room in your green can?” “I made some hand sanitizer – do you want some?” “We picked more oranges than we can use – would you like some?” “I made too much soup so I am bringing you dinner!” “May I borrow your pole saw?” “I’m going grocery shopping – do you need anything?” “Want to go for a walk?” “Here is a CD of encouraging music that I made.” “I made bread, and there is a loaf with your name on it.”
It is wise to limit one’s consumption of “news”.
My face is the itchiest location on the planet.
Focusing on what we have, the blessings in our homes, yards and neighborhoods keeps away the fear and frustrations.

This got too long. It will be continued tomorrow.

Hanging Around, Taking Walks

The degree of thankfulness Trail Guy and I have to live in a place where we are not trapped in an apartment in a city is almost overwhelming.

I’m not writing this to make you feel bad; I want you to be able to think of what is special about where you live and be just as grateful.

There are poppies on the distant hillsides, but the phone-camera can’t see that far. So, I focused on the Lady Banks rose.

Unintended good things about this lockdown:

Robocalls have stopped.
Neighbor is home so dogs aren’t barking.
More time at home.
Getting to know neighbors better because we are all home.
Living in less of a hurry.
Never mind about how often we have bought ice cream (The shut-down is just an excuse.)
Must be something else. . . how about if you add to the list?

Because it is Sunday, here is some additional encouragement:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable–if anything is excellent or praiseworthy–think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

What passes for recreation these days is gleaning oranges in a friend’s grove in Lemon Cove. (Don’t be confused – there is a Lemon Grove in San Diego, and an Orange Cove in Fresno County, and Lemon Cove is in Tulare County.) This has always been fun for Trail Guy and me, but now it is almost the only thing we do for fun. Taking walks, yardening, they count too, but I’m talking about going somewhere in a vehicle.

It is fun to ramble around the grove, take photos, hunt, find, pick, eat, and later, to share. As an added bonus, when I am out there I can touch my face as much as I want, so there. (Talk about fun – wowsa.)

We are having more fun than humans should be allowed, especially when we are supposed to be hunkered down in our dwellings, watching too much teevee, taking in confusing and conflicting information, and being afraid.

Not us, nosireebob.

This is what passes for a business trip in this time of “staying in place”. And now I have ideas and inspiration for new paintings. Take that, Virus!

This area hasn’t been picked yet because it is valencias, not navels. We didn’t glean here. Gleaning is what happens after picking.

To find oranges, you look for a “door” to go inside the trees canopy, and then look up and around. (Try not to bash your head or step on any sprinklers or thorns.)

The Business of Art

Where’s your mask, young man?? Thank goodness we don’t have to practice social distancing from our pets.

There is a misperception about artists, that we just sit around waiting for inspiration, and then paint what and when we feel like it.

Artists who do that are usually hobbyists. Professionals know that life is easier when you have money, and if you want to sell, you need to paint what people want to buy, and then make yourself and your work visible and available.

Treating art-making as a business means many things are necessary:

Figure out what people want.
Learn to paint well.
Pay attention to online marketing – using my website, an email newsletter, Instagram (nope, no Facebook or Twitter for this Central Calif. artist – I have standards and boundaries.)
Keep in touch with real people that I know in real life rather than depend entirely on “likes” and “hearts”.
Make sure that people know what I do. (Do you know?)
Figure out what works and what is a waste of time and money.
Pay attention to trends (remember coloring books for grown-ups?)
Be willing to do odd jobs. (Oh yeah!)
Be willing to accept commissions (I am and I do – murals, oil paintings, pencil drawings).
Keep learning new skills.

I am reading Building a Story Brand: Clarify Your Message So Customers Will Listen by Donald Miller. He is an author whose memoirs I have enjoyed for many years, and “suddenly” (how did he pull this off from a navel-gazing author?) he has become a very wise business coach. His podcast, Building a Story Brand is one of my favorites, both for his business acumen and his sense of humor. I trust this guy and just really like how he communicates.

This is what I have come up with after spending time with his book; I think it really summarizes what I do.

Making art you understand, about places and things you love, at prices that won’t scare you.

(There is a parenthetical addition to the end of this little blurb: “because buying art shouldn’t require a degree.)

Now I just have to figure out how to incorporate that into all my marketing efforts.

I’d really rather be painting or drawing, but sometimes an artist has to do what she has to do.

(With thanks to my longtime blog reader and virtual friend Marjie who helped me streamline the words)

Tucker doesn’t have a strong opinion about this topic.

Easter

He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. . . Matthew 28:6

I don’t know what the word “Easter” actually means or where it came from, but the words in the quote above are exactly what it means to me.

Thanks for stopping by today. May your Easter be full of meaning for you.

Out Into the Wild

These quail don’t require groceries, hand sanitizer or masks.

Thursday morning I left home at 5:45 in the dark, cold, and rain to go to Winco in Visalia. The last trip was in January, and it seemed prudent to stock up. (My Mom had a huge list too.)

This is a weird angle of Pippin, chosen to make you smile.

I managed to get both our lists at the same time into one very packed and heavy cart. It was disconcerting to see all the bulk bins empty, including most of the ones where you don’t actually have to touch the food with a scoop. I made substitutions, skipped some things, and only bought produce that came in plastic. Mom wanted things I didn’t know how to find, and just touching the bag of frozen okra almost triggered my gag reflex. (Really, Martha, are you that hungry??)

Winco isn’t banning people’s own bags yet but I didn’t know that. (I now have 17 plastic bags to use in sharing oranges with neighbors.) I had to put it into 2 carts once it was bagged, and then a stranger helped me pull one of them to my car in the rain. I should have taken the pick-em-up truck instead of Fernando (that’s my ’96 Honda Accord Coupe – have I ever disclosed that before?) Good thing I had no passengers.

I drove with the window open through Lemon Cove so I could smell the orange blossoms.

Time for a restorative cup of tea (I’m reading a novel based in England in WWII* – can you tell?), a bit of dark chocolate, and a reminder that spring is still happening and it is beautiful so stop whinging. (See? reading an English novel)