Learned in February

Did I learn anything in February of this year?

Maybe.

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.
Seaglass is getting harder to find and the pieces are smaller. This decline in availability will continue. I learned this from reading The Ultimate Guide to Sea Glass by Mary Beth Beuke.
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.

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.

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).

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?

Kaweah Lake Three Rivers

Boring Beginnings

The beginning of painting a new series is a very boring factory-type assembly line of assigning inventory numbers, choosing titles, and attaching hanging hardware. Then all the canvases have to be primed, or “toned” in Art Speak. I just use whatever blend of colors I find in the bottom of my turpentine jar for this task.

Actually, before I begin the boring part, there is a brain-stretching exercise. It involves looking through previous years’ sales, seeing which subjects and sizes have been the most popular, looking through my existing inventory, and then making educated guesses about subjects, sizes, and quantities of each. Then I review my extensive photo files and make more guesses about what to paint.

These on the floor have already been primed from a previous ambitious painting session.

It was too loud in the workshop for Tucker. He’s kind of sensitive.

At least Scout and Trail Guy were in the workshop with me. Trail Guy was working on a project, talking to himself and to the radio and sometimes to me. Scout was napping in the sunshine in the window.

I ran out of hardware and out of room, so I walked home.

Heading Home

I’ve spent many nights away from home in the past month. The drive between home and away is so beautiful this time of year that I want to show you a few photos. I hold the camera up to the window while driving and not looking at the camera screen, so any photo that is sort of okay is lucky. Then I edit the lucky shots.

Someone has graffitied my initials in my favorite color on this road sign.

Would any of these photos make good paintings? Or am I just blinded by green love? If I paint these, can I write off my mileage? Or can I write off my mileage because I am considering these to be paintable?

I can’t stand tax season. But I love this time of year. Life is full of contradictions, dilemmas, incongruities, paradoxes, always at the same time. Thank goodness there are goods happening at the same time as bads.

Scouting Around

What are those dudes howling about over there??

For the first time in my life, I have purposely not gotten a cat “fixed”. We have so much trouble keeping cats that I want to generate a few back-up kitties. Besides, it costs so much and then some coyote just comes along, and poof, gone, bye-bye cat and bye-bye dollars.

So, our little Scout has become a boy-scoutin’ kitty. She has a couple of boyfriends who are yowling at one another down by the road. We are a little worried that Scout will go scouting too far away, but even if she was “fixed” there would be no guarantee of safety.

Meanwhile, I haven’t been working much and went scouting around (for scenery and exercise, not like Scout!!) with a couple of friends. It is early spring in Three Rivers, up on the BLM land along Salt Creek.

We saw a total of 4 young ‘uns! I told you it is spring around here.

First bush lupine of the year in bloom – more evidence of spring.

This waterfall along Salt Creek doesn’t photograph well for me, but I always try.

Whoa. This is so beautiful. Sometimes I can’t believe I get to live here.

Does this look like January to you? It was January 30 when I was here, honest! See? Tulare County isn’t all about unemployment, obesity and smog. (But don’t tell anyone else, okay?)

This map is where we were. Salt Creek BLM land. Some people call it Case Mountain, but it is one very long walk to Case Mountain, involving a tremendous amount of trespassing. Since it follows the Salt Creek drainage, that is the name I prefer.

7 Things I Learned in January

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.

Little Things Can Help

When we have big bad sad occurrences, sometimes little things can help. They distract us, remind us what remains, help us be thankful for so many good things in life. Here are a few that have helped me recently.

A walk with Trail Guy in a seldom visited place of beauty. Kind of makes you say, “Whoa”.

Might be Mt. Stewart, and perhaps Triple Divide Peak in the distance on the left. And the ubiquitous spot on the lens. . . sigh.

Work That Doesn’t Feel Like Work

In my normally slow month of December, I finally had the chance to work on my upcoming book Mineral King Wildflowers: Common Names.

It seems to be cooking along just fine, and then something goes wackadoodle with InDesign or the template ceases to do its templatish magic or it takes hours and hours to resize all the photos to the same effective PPI (you’d really rather not know) or some of the photos get corrupted and I have to keep moving the flashdrive back and forth between the 2 laptops or I realize the title page simply says “MK Wildflowers” instead of Mineral King Wildflowers . . .

You get the idea.

One morning I worked about 10 minutes on it and suddenly it was lunchtime. Then I put in about another 1/2 hour and it was dark out. Then another 10 minutes and it was 9 p.m. So, you see this is an engrossing and enjoyable project.

The worst part will be writing the blurb on the back. Have you ever tried writing about yourself? Don’t, if you are able to avoid it.

The plan is to have it in hand in April so I can do a book signing in the Mineral King Room at the Three Rivers Historical Museum before the Redbud Festival when people are in a wildflower state of mind. (Have you ever been in a wildflower state of mind? It might just be an idiosyncratic trait of this Central California artist.)

Working & Wondering

A view from a home in Three Rivers that I will be drawing soon.

The week between Christmas and New Year’s Day has always felt like a freebie to me. I don’t work much, but spend time thinking about the previous year (did I actually do anything noteworthy?) and about the upcoming year (do I look as if I have a plan?).

Last week I thought about blogging, marketing, what to paint, what to draw, the 2020 calendar, and mostly about the upcoming book, Mineral King Wildflowers: Common Names. I wondered how I got selected as the Best Artist in Three Rivers in 2018 and didn’t know it.

I made lists, calculated a year’s worth of mileage on my car, vacuumed the studio, called Huge & Rude (the telephone company) because the internet isn’t working very well (what’s new about that?), rehung paintings in the studio from Anne Lang’s Emporium (now closed), updated lists of available paintings, delivered paintings to the Mural Gallery in Exeter, put new art on the website, and generally wondered about my art business.

Where will I sell my work? What shall I paint? Is there a way to draw more? Is there a reason to draw more? How do I tap into those thousands of people blowing through town on their way to Sequoia National Park? Should I hire someone to teach me how to reach a wider market? Are little boutiques the right place for my work? If not, where is? How do I find more customers? Do I post to my blog too often? Why do so many people not even know what a blog is? Do I have to join the dreaded Facebook? Will this be the year I have to get a cell phone? Should I get my good camera repaired? Should I buy a better small camera? Who’s on first?

I often wonder about my art business, in case you were wondering.

Things I Learned in 2018

Happy New Year!

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.

Category: Thoughts