Family Cemetery

Mom and I were creeping down a steep gravel road in a rented car in the fog. I love to explore and see new things, but seeing wasn’t easy in that fog. As we worked our way down off the “mountain” (I am sorry for being such a California mountain snob), I said “grassy clearing up ahead”. Mom said “That’s the cemetery!” Sure enough, it was. I have a sense of awe for a family that maintains and uses its own private cemetery. It seems so personal and honoring to the deceased family members. Have a look at the one in my family:

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Okay, I admit. We returned another day for better photos.

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This is the centerpiece headstone. The other side has Martha Bob’s name, my knitting-while-reading great-grandmother, AKA “Granny” to her many grandchildren.img_4626.jpg

One of Martha Bob’s ancestors, her namesake, my Mom.

I am not a freak

Isn’t that a nice feeling? You go along in life, wondering why you are the way you are, wondering if anyone else has ever done the same things, wondering if you will ever meet anyone else who gets you. . . not that I care about other people’s opinions, but sometimes it does get lonely being so highly individualized. So, there I was in North Carolina, just finding my way along, and learning about family when my Mom told me that my great-grandmother, Martha Bob, KNIT AND READ AT THE SAME TIME!!! This was a huge revelation, an AHA moment, a light going off in my head. I realized at that very moment, if I am weird, it is an inherited trait. If I am special, it is in my genes. All this, and Cousin Hazel has a knitting shop too! img_4795.jpg

A Quest

My maternal grandmother, AKA Grandma, was one of 12 children born to Martha Bob and Edward Elisha in the hills of North Carolina.  Of the 7 girls, she was the only one to attend and graduate from high school, leave North Carolina, and eventually get her driver’s license! (Such a maverick, that G’ma of mine!) Last week I had the privilege and joy of spending time in the town of Blowing Rock, North Carolina, where she went to high school. The natives call them mountains because it is high and cool for NC, but as a Californian who spends much time in Mineral King, I think of them as beautiful green hills covered in deciduous trees. The town was just wonderful – a Carmel/Mendocino type place whose population swells from 1500 to 20,000 in the summer. Every yard has flowers, every porch has chairs (usually rockers), and every person is as nice as can be. I loved the architecture, the lakes, the trails, the history, the learning of where G’ma grew up, and meeting my Mom’s first cousins.

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The school that G’ma attended was only there from 1918 – 1927, so I had to be content with photos o the present structure.

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The rock gymnasium was built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s.

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Have I mentioned that I love old buildings? 😎

Life at the Painting Factory

Didn’t want you all to think all I do is stand before an easel – I DO have a life. Sort of. Okay, maybe it is more of a Cat Disorder, but it is MY Cat Disorder and I am quite content with this state (even though I know I can’t just quit anytime I want.)

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Kaweah Kitty hates it when I take a break and is always on hand to help me find my way back to the painting workshop. (try to be polite about her tail – she can’t help it)

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She has a tendency to lie underfoot – obviously she feels quite safe despite the fact that I might accidentally squash her when I step back to view the easel contents.

 

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Butch just hunkers down in the RV garage and yells when I walk past. Poor little guy is an orphan and we don’t know what happened to Cashmere and O’Reilly.

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Sometimes he comes outside, but he is skittish in the extreme. We can pet him now, but only on his terms. It took from November until May – that is a record! (not a good one – no idea how we will get him “fixed”)

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Check out that non-tail. It’s why we call him Butch. Looks like a Manx, talks like a Siamese, acts like a psycho.

How to be an (professional) artist in Tulare County

That is the title of the talk (“lecture”) that I gave yesterday at the Creative Center in Visalia. The three items are: 1. Love the place; 2. Be flexible and 3. Never quit. The turnout was small, (I think “intimate” is the word used for such things) and I knew all but 3 people. After we introduced, we realized we had known of each other but just hadn’t met yet. The show looks wonderful, thanks to Glen Hill who really placed the pieces artfully. It is surprising how much this matters! Three pieces sold, and the buyers graciously consented to leaving them in place until the show ends.

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There was a very bright spotlight in my eyes so I couldn’t see the audience. Now that I see them in this photo, I can see that several who were present aren’t in this scene. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and were all very complimentary. The Creative Center is a great place to show art and to have presentations –  thank you Theresa, Glen and Bailey!

Peculiar sights #4

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One day while walking, instead of looking out for that yappy squalling ankle-biter named Miles, I looked up. What a nice surprise!

Peculiar sights #3

As I walk around in Three Rivers in preparation for April 25, this sight never fails to amuse me:

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In case you can’t tell, the upper mailbox says “WHITE”. Because you now know I am a color junkie, listen to this: there are people with the last name of Gray and people with the last name of Brown and a guy with the last name of Green too! And, the people named White got together with the people named Brown and formed a company called “Beige”. (I’m not making this up!) On the subject of first names, there is a man who goes by “Red” (not all that uncommon), I had a drawing student named “Teal” AND I have a cousin named Pink (somewhere in North Carolina). As you can see, I have lots of thinking time on these training walks.

Peculiar sights #2

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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!