Eight Things I Learned in September

It has been over a year that I have posted these monthly lists, and one of the things I’ve learned is that I learn 6-8 notable things every month. (I didn’t add this fact to September’s list because it felt so obvious.)

  1. Ladyfinger grapes are a new variety of seedless grape. I don’t know where to buy them, but I sure enjoyed them at a potluck!

    Lady finger grapes, a new variety.
  2. My last name is associated with jaundice in Ukraine; they call it Botkin’s Disease. Jana Jaundice does sort of flow, but I will choose to stick with Botkin.
  3. The wildflower Indian pink, which blooms in the foothills in the spring, is red, not pink. This has bothered me for many years (Yes, I know, get a life already). In September, I learned that it is so named because the edge appears as if it was trimmed with pinking shears!
  4. Duckduckgo is a search engine that doesn’t save history, chase you around the internet, and clutter your life with ads. I’ve used it most of September; this is how my home page looks now. Back in the last century when I chose the G for my home page, it was because of its clean white simplicity. This will do quite nicely instead. I’m very happy to not have ads chasing me onto every web site.
  5. Clean air is essential for people with lung diseases even with oxygen 24/7. My friend who is waiting for lungs is markedly improved in her strength, endurance, and overall health after 6 weeks in a place of clean air.

    On the Cayucos pier.
  6. The Elfin Forest in Los Osos is a  San Luis Obispo County park. It has pygmie oaks, because of the salt air and poor soil. It all looked like shrubs to me; seeing it satisfied my curiosity about the place.

    The Elfin Forest, Los Osos, San Luis Obispo County
  7. Atul Gawande’s Being Mortal is the most instructive book I’ve ever read about aging and terminal illness. If you have people in your life who are aging and are wondering about assisted living options for them, or people who are facing a terminal illness, this book will help you figure things out with your loved one’s best interests in mind. It is outstanding, teaching through stories and the author’s personal experiences. I learned way more than you want to read in a blog list.
  8. The plant that I and everyone I know calls “Ice Plant” at the beach is actually called “Sea Fig”. “Sea Fig”? Who makes up these names? I found it in several of the wildflower books that I’m using to gather names for the upcoming Wildflowers of Mineral King: Common Names.

And now, may we PLEASE be finished with summer’s heat??

Random Round-up Including Mineral King History

Today is a round-up of several topics, including Mineral King.

The 2019 calendars are selling steadily – $15 includes sales tax, and I am willing to eat the mailing costs, yum yum. (The Three Rivers Post Office is actually a pleasure to visit.) Yes, that is Sawtooth Peak on the cover, one of the most prominent landscape features in Mineral King. (“Features”, as if it is landscaped? Good grief.)

Ever try to type on a laptop with two purring teenage cats on your lap at the same time? Tucker kept a paw and his chin on the keyboard area, while Scout kept climbing around and slobbering a little. Not a very productive time, but it is a pleasure to have kitties around (except for the slobber part).

A friend wanted to ride her new Harley to Mineral King. She has good sense, and instead, chose to ride it to the Mineral King mural in Exeter.

Louise Jackson gave a talk at the Three Rivers library about why the Disney plan for a ski area in Mineral King failed and how it tied into the larger world. It didn’t fail for one reason but for a combination of reasons:

  1. Roy Disney, Walt’s brother, was the one who ran the business behind the scenes. He kept saying, “We are in the entertainment business, not the recreation business”. When Walt died at age 65 in 1966, some of the fire for the ski area died down. Walt was a skier; perhaps Roy wasn’t. . .
  2. The environmental movement was growing during that time; conservation and preservation became more important than development.
  3. The avalanches were a real problem, and when the big one happened in 1969 that took out cabins, killed a Disney guy and proved that managing the snow was potentially a huge problem, more of the wind went out of their sails.
  4. The road was too expensive to fix. The road was terrible. Still is. We don’t mind. 😎

The avalanche of 1969 crushed the store and rental cabins; Disney sent people in to burn all the rubble. The only little cabin that survived was the Honeymoon Cabin, also known as the Point Cabin.

Honeymoon Cabin #32, oil on wrapped canvas, 8×8″, $100 plus tax.

And finally, I have been working on a new book! Nope, I’ll tell you about it next week. . . see you on Monday!

 

Cabin Thoughts, Part 3

Mineral King cabin folks come from cities, suburbs, small towns and out in the country; we live in mansions, estates, apartments, and even a few normal houses. We are artists, bankers, equipment operators, janitors, teachers, farmers, administrative assistants, engineers, retirees, dental hygienists, sheriffs, lawyers, doctors, day care workers, musicians, optometrists, veterinary assistants, physical therapists, moms, Park employees, physician’s assistants, and those are just the first ones that come to mind. We come from California, Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Nevada, Utah, Virginia, New York, Hawaii, Florida, South Dakota, and Egypt. (Probably more places that I can’t remember. . .)

Our Mineral King cabins, AKA “small, poorly constructed huts in the woods”, are great equalizers.

Every one of us, regardless of our backgrounds, livelihoods, economic, educational or political status, is thrilled to have a small, poorly constructed hut in the woods. Every cabin has a barely adequate kitchen, a laughably tiny (or no) bathroom, maybe one or two or even no bedrooms. Every single cabin user has to figure out how to deal with unreliable water, peculiar propane appliances, old stuff that may or may not work, and the definite lack of a maintenance department, hardware or grocery store. There is a terrible road to get there, rodents, spiders and other wildlife that may or may not be appreciated, and all sorts of unexpected situations. (Who left this chair and what happened to my flashlight?? Who forgot the tonic water? Does anyone have any birthday candles? What do you mean Skin-So-Soft isn’t mosquito repellent? Are you kidding that I can’t blow-dry my hair?)

Every single cabin that is owned by multiple families has its conflicts, whether decorating, cleaning, maintaining, or scheduling. The cabins without partnerships have to bear the expenses, decisions, maintenance and cleaning without benefit of sharing the load.

Those who have complicated lives in fancy places might view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a bit of an inconvenience, but a treasured shabby shack in the mountains.

Those who have simpler lives in simpler places might also view a cabin as a mixed blessing: a family tradition, a repository of memories, and a huge treat, a treasured place of one’s own in the mountains.

In my 32 38 years of cabin ownership, I’ve observed cabin folks’ conversation topics go from “How can we save these cabins” to “How have you been?” We have fought together, helped one another, hiked together, learned one another’s family trees, and through it all we have built friendships weekend upon weekend, year after year after decade after decade. And I am just a newcomer. . .

A small, poorly-constructed, primitive, one-story hut in the woods where everyday life is distant and we gather to laugh with family and play board games while a fire keeps us warm. (If you have a giant log mansion on a lake somewhere, then you will have to edit this description to fit your idea of what constitutes “cabin”.)

Cabin Thoughts, Part 2

Mineral King, pencil, framed approximately 14 x 18″, $400 plus tax.

I looked up “cabin” on my Mac. The dictionary on my computer has fairly useless definitions as far as our discussion is concerned.

Cabin may refer to:

  • Beach cabin, a small wooden hut on a beach

  • Log cabin, a house built from logs

  • Cottage, a small house

  • Chalet, a wooden mountain house with a sloping roof

  • Small, remote, mansion (Western Canada)

  • Small, free-standing structures that serve as individual lodging spaces of a motel

Forget that. Where’s my real Webster’s dictionary?? Mine was published in 2004 rather than 1935. Oh good grief, look at this:

A small, simple, one-story house.

Willow Window, pencil. Is this a cabin? Nope, it is a bungalow. But it is a small, simple, one-story house. How do I know? Because I used to live there.
Kitchen Corner, pencil, framed, $150. Is this a cabin? Yep. How do I know? I live there in the summer. But wait! It has 2 stories!

A few folks checked in with their thoughts on what a cabin is. One suggested “primitive”; another said a place to get away from every day life; a third (and someone else I talked to in person) suggests that a cabin is a state of mind, “non-fancy” is a good description, and someone else added in a description of an ideal cabin. She used the word “spare”, which could mean an extra home or it could mean without clutter. (I’ve seen some pretty cluttered cabins, and I have lived in a cabin when it was my only place of residence.)

Come back tomorrow for more thoughts on cabins and cabin life; clearly, there is no clear definition of cabin, but there are many ideas about it. Clearly.

Cabin Thoughts

A classic Mineral King cabin. (sold oil painting)

In 1986 I married into a Mineral King cabin. I’d always wanted either a cabin or a beach house. Here in Tulare County, cabins are more available and accessible than beach houses. It has worked out well, even to the point that my art business is called Cabin Art. (Or Cabinart. . . for a Typo-Psycho, I am awfully ambivalent about the spelling of this invented word.)

But what exactly is a cabin? A dear old friend and I began discussing this, and I was surprised that I am unable to define the word. Some cabin neighbors along with Off Trail Guy and I had a discussion about the definition of “cabin”, and the word “woods” came up several times in both discussions.

My hiking buddy suggested I try Webster. I was so caught off guard that I said something truly clueless:  “What is that? Some internet thing?” We all got a big laugh when I realized she meant Noah Webster and the Merriam-Webster dictionary, not some World Wide Web gizmo.

We had an old dictionary at the cabin, so I looked up “cabin”. The 3rd definition said, “A small, rude hut”.

Clearly the word “rude” has changed in meaning since the dictionary was published in 1935. I looked up “rude” and saw “Poorly constructed”.

Alrighty, then. A cabin is a small, poorly constructed hut.

My Very Wise Dad always told us it is better to laugh than to cry. I might even fall down laughing at this definition, especially when folks mention their Shaver Lake or Tahoe cabins.

Let’s talk more about this tomorrow.

How do you define “cabin”? (Don’t spoil things by looking it up first – just speak from your gut or your heart.)

Labor Day

Turning Leaf XVIII, 6×6″, oil on wrapped canvas, $64 including California sales tax

Remember in the olden days when Labor Day was the first day of school? You’d get up in the dark, put on new clothes, wear shoes for the first time in months and say, “Mom, these shoes are too tight!” to which she’d respond, “They are fine. You just aren’t used to wearing shoes”.

Then you’d stand out in front of the house with your lunch box (mine was Mary Poppins, and although I didn’t see the movie, I did have the record) and a cat or dog for a photo.

Photos were a big deal in those days, taken to commemorate Events rather than for routine and systematic documentation of everyday life. None of us knew what to do with our faces or our hands or our bodies when a camera was looking at us. Today all kids can instinctively arrange their bodies into professional look poses and with their perfectly straightened teeth and the confidence of a supermodel, they all look naturally beautiful.

Now school starts in early August when it is still hot. I think everyone wears shorts to school now, which were forbidden in the olden days except for P.E., which was required from 7th grade on.

I am very old-fashioned. There are no drawing lessons in July or August, and we resume on the Tuesday after Labor Day. (I even wear shoes, real shoes, rather than Tevas or Crocs and if you want, I can pose awkwardly with my cats for a photo.)

Anyone want to take drawing lessons? I have a few openings. . .

Back to work, all y’all!

Eight Things I Learned in August

Fridays are for Mineral King, but today’s post is my end of the month list of things I learned. Here is a Mineral King photo for you as a consolation prize.

  1. A friend of mine is always on his phone, always always always. But he only uses it as a telephone. For note-taking, he uses a yellow legal pad, which he refers to as his “y-pad“. I’m stealing this term!
  2. In August I learned the real difficulties of lung disease by helping my friend who is waiting for new lungs. Become an organ donor!!
  3. A friend is moving to Furnace Creek, the settlement in Death Valley. She learned that in the summer, residents turn off their water heaters and use it for cold water; their cold water taps become their hot water sources.
  4. Tulare Co. ranked 150 out of 150 in adults aged 25 and older with a bachelor’s degree or higher, quality of the public system, and racial and gender gaps in local education. The study, by WalletHub, was of major metropolitan areas. Tulare County is hardly a major metropolitan anything, but the study combined Visalia and Porterville, the 2 largest cities in the county. Well, bummer. (We’re fat and poor here too. Oh, we also have really bad air. Sounds inviting, no?)
  5. Making Sense of God by Timothy Keller is one of the most helpful books I’ve read in a long time, and I learned more than this post can contain. If you are a skeptic or know one who is seeking solid truths about Christianity, this book is a winner. It requires thought and took me a long time to get through, and now I need to reread it and take notes for more solid remembering.
  6. For years I’ve wanted to find something cold to drink that had no sugar, no fake sugar, no caffeine, no alcohol. This was just a vague wish for something more interesting than plain water or herbal tea. At a block party this summer, my good friend said, “Ooh, this is not very good!” so I picked up her can for a taste. Wow! carbonation, no sweetness whatsoever, and a hint of berry flavor. It was LeCroix, nothing but carbonation and a hint of flavor. Eureka!
  7. Keeping cats is almost impossible around here. (We’ve lost four in 2018.) Now there are two – Scout and Tucker. Bye-bye, Piper. I didn’t even get to know you.
  8. If you need to get rid of an old couch, you have 3 options: dump it on the side of the road, drop it off after hours behind a thrift store that won’t take it when they are open, or take it to the dump. We took the third option, and it hurt my heart. Trail Guy salvaged the good fabric from the backside (the front was wrecked by cats through the years). The couch served us well from 1984 onward, and was reupholstered once. The only thing that helps assuage my guilt is that we saved two antique pieces of furniture from the same fate.
    Scout, who will NEVER have access to our new/antique furniture.

    Tucker, who also will NEVER have access to our new/antique furniture.

Various Things in Mineral King

Happy Birthday, Judy-o!!

This month I am spending a large chunk of time just goofing off instead of working. This means I don’t have much to post about in terms of my art business. But, does anyone care? And is it necessary to post five days a week, as is my habit?  It isn’t Friday, and yet I’m going on and on about Mineral King. Again, I ask “does anyone care”?

I do. I care. Been doing this blog for over ten years, five days a week, and not gonna stop now. Nope. Not.

So there.

This is similar to the view I drew in pencil earlier this summer, but 30 years later.
Horses seem to be all about dust, flies, and manure.
Because of this guy, I began teaching drawing lessons in 1994. Thank you, Steven!!
Cabins require maintenance.
Standard scene. Yawn. Just another day in Paradise.
A juniper tree along the trail.
Ever heard of Western Eupatorium? Glad to be of service in enhancing your wildflower knowledge.
Weird horse (but at least it isn’t sticking out its tongue).
Who are these guys?? Some people work at their cabins; others just hang around waiting for Happy Hour. We love and appreciate our cabin neighbors.
That weirdness on the Red Fir branch is a type of mistletoe that grows on conifers.
We admired our neighbor’s radio because it worked beautifully, unlike the THREE that are in our cabin and HE GAVE IT TO US!!! See? Great neighbors all around. I’ve never heard of this brand, but wow, I am impressed! Talk radio, Giants baseball, and music all come in clearly.

Waiting Up and Down

This is Maxine the Marmot. She is waiting for me to stop looking at her so she can continue to prepare to fatten up for winter.

At this time of year, I am living in two places. One is Up and the other is Down.

This has its ups and downs. . . the biggest Up is that no one is looking at his phone while up the hill, unless scrolling through to show you a photo. Nothing is beeping, pinging, ringing, or dinging. People are present. Things are slower, less urgent, minus the frantic pace of down-the-hill living that now passes for normal.

The Down side is that while I am down the hill, I am scrambling to answer emails, respond to comments, write and schedule blog posts, send out invoices and orders, plan for new paintings, do the regular errands and the chores, and all the rest of normal life. (I also miss my kitties and my yard and my walking buddy while I am up the hill.)

While I’m having an extended stay up the hill, I make a long list of things to attend to when I get back down the hill. This way I can do up-the-hill things without wondering if I am neglecting down-the-hill things. I AM neglecting down-the-hill things, but they can wait.

Have you noticed this? These days people seem to have forgotten how to wait. There is a frantic aggressiveness in many drivers, there is a need for instant messaging and texting no matter where one is, and people must fill every second with something to do while waiting so that the time won’t be wasted. Who just stands in line, looking around or chatting with strangers any more?

Life up the hill reminds us how to wait in many ways. We pull to the side of the road in a wide spot to wait for oncoming traffic to pass, we wait for the phone to ring because there is no answering machine to grab an expected call, we wait for the fire in the wood stove to get hot enough to boil water for coffee, we wait to see various animals, we wait for friends and neighbors to arrive, and we wait until we get home to answer emails and phone messages and regular mail.

So, I hope you all are able to wait well and enjoy life in the present. (You may have to wait for a blog post that shows you my latest work in progress.)

Clearly I was under the influence of my beach time when I began knitting this sweater. Knitting is a great thing to do while waiting.