Painting Update

Well, I'm also slow at getting the painting started this year. I only got around to a second painting session today. I spent some time penciling.


This year, I'm trying something different. Usually, I work from back to front, as if painting the foreground over the background were some sort of 3D exercise in my 2D painting. This year, I'm starting with the important details and will try to fill in as I go.


Here, I'm talking about the first three flowers' petals. I'm not sure if this will work for me, but that's what experimenting is all about.

Birthday Tree 2017

Wow, I'm behind on everything.

Generally, I buy a tree every year for my birthday. I'm rarely on my birthday when I do, but this year has been particularly slow. And then I've been slow to document it. I got the tree over a month ago. Now it's time to show you.

But first an update on previous trees planted here in Cayucos.

Last year's tree was a wee lime tree. It looked like this:


Now it looks like this:


The poor thing lost all of its leaves in the sun last year, so I moved it behind the fence for a little protection and a good number of leaves grew back.

2015's tree was an olive. It looked like this:


Now it looks like this:


Everyone talks about how the weather on the Central Coast is "Mediterranean." i think the fact that my most successful tree so far has been the olive kind of bears that our.

My first tree was back after I moved in in 2014.

It was a happy little tree:


And I killed it.


I was trying to move it from the whiskey barrel to a nicer spot with a little shade, but I think I hacked at its roots. Poor thing went quickly.

Since I've had the most success with the olive tree, this year I kept to the Mediterranean theme.


I planted another stick! This one is a fig tree. The nursery said the fig is the only tree it won't guarantee for a year, so wish me luck.

And So It Begins

This year's painting has been started. 


 
 

Halcon Days

It was another gorgeous day today, so I thought I'd go try the Rocky Canyon Trail in the sunshine instead of in the rain.


Unfortunately, part of the road to the quarry was missing. This is Halcon (sic) Road. The hike starts from the other side of the river and goes up hill. Driving there is still possible, but I think it would have taken another half hour to get there. So, I took a walk around on this side of the river.


This is the first year since I've moved to the Central Coast that I've seen the Salinas River actually have water in it.

There were a lot of signs around warning about Trespassing and Parking and other disreputable things a man can do in the wilderness. But I have to say, this sends a bit of a mixed message:


Still, I guess folks around here have an opinion about Good and Evil:


For The Birds

During my weekly stop at Schooner's Wharf...


 

 

 

 

 

Carrizo Plain

I drove out to Carrizo Plain today.

 
This is Soda Lake. Last time I was here, in December two years ago  the lake was drier and surrounded by white deposits left behind by evaporation. 
 
We here in San Luis Obispo County are still in drought, but the rain has been better of late. It is a wonder to see the land get green. 
 
I think I had it in my head that seeing the pictographs -- ancient paintings on rock -- would serve as a metaphor this weekend. That in spite of everything bad that can happen -- changing climate, displacement and conquest, bad presidents -- some things survive, creativity endures. 

You're not allowed to take pictures of the pictographs, to show respect. And they seem to be fading, to be honest. So instead I took pictures of graffiti. 
 
And old farm equipment. 
 
And I decided it's silly to look for metaphors. 
 
It's more important to keep creating, to keep making, to keep supporting each other. 
 

<hr>

Addendum: I did find a metaphor of sorts: 

 

I don't think barbed wire is going to hold them in. 

Cow-a-fornia Cow (39)

So I was driving out in the country somewhere east of San Miguel. I was on a mission. I was looking for a cow. 


"I don't think you're looking in the right place," Bertie said and I nearly drove off the road. I carefully pulled over into a driveway and stared at him. 


"Where did you come from?" I hissed. 


"I mean this is all vineyards. Cows live on ranches to the west."


"Not this one. Why are you here?"


"To help you. Now let's get back on the road before it gets dark."


I learned years ago that it was a waste of time to argue with my imaginary friends and family. It's just that it has been so long. I thought they were gone for good. I swallowed my argument and pulled back into the road. I've forgotten what it's called at that point. It seemed to change name every three driveways. 


"We've gone too far," Bertie said after a bit. 


"What? But google maps says..."


"The road name has changed. You wanted something on that last stretch."


"Look, Bertie, I think I'll trust --"


"Your destination is on the left," google piped up. We rolled to a stop on the shoulder. To the right was a steep hill. To the left was nothing but a creek and a field. 


"See? No cows."  I ignored him and looked at the little flag on my phone. "You should go back to the last driveway. I'll bet it's up there."


"I'm ignoring you."


"Not very well," Bertie observed as I carefully turned the car around then turned down the driveway of Ranchita Canyon vineyard. The driveway seemed to go on and on forever, but eventually it came to a small parking area near a building with a deck. There were people on the deck drinking wine. 


"Quite shocking at a vineyard," Bertie remarked as we got out of the car. 


"Shh"


It was there. The first cow of my journey. 


"Seriously? Why not just call it Cowabunga?"


 


The plaque read "Cow-a-fornia Cow." The artist was Kerry Donlon-Bowen. 


"I think it's pretty," I said. The flag and the monarchs particularly caught my eye. 


"Are you going to marry it or take a picture of it?" 


"Shut up!" I hissed and took a picture with my phone. 


"Excuse me?" The voice came from the deck. It belonged to a large, grumpy looking man. "Were you talking to me?"


"How can you be grumpy when you're out tasting wine?" Bertie asked. 


I put the phone to my ear and said, "Hold on."


To the man, I said, "Sorry I was on the phone." He grumbled but sat back down. I scurried back to the car. 


I started it up and turned around as quickly as I could without looking like I was running away. Soon we were on our way back down the long driveway. 


"See? Told you I was here to help."


"How in the world did you help? You almost got me in a fight."


"I helped keep you from dillydallying.  You have a lot of cows to see."


I groaned. I might be making a mistake trying to see every cow in the SLO Cow Parade. 


"Are you going to bother me for all the cows?" I asked. 


"No," said the kid whose name I can't remember from the back seat. 


"We are with you as well," said his friend Prasad. 


And I knew for sure I was making a mistake. 


EOY: Reading


Happy New Year!

28 books. 1 more than last year.

Authors 19:9 (count by book)