~ CORNWALL ~
(and keep going to the bottom of this post, nice Sparhawk Stormy Oil Paintings, too!)They’re having a weather experience in Cornwall, (below is the lighthouse getting a drench……)and they have had it before, quite a coastline. Must be some brilliant architecture and bricklaying because the houses survive the turmoil.
Don’t turn your back on the ocean is still good advice. If you’re out there taking pictures, don’t forget to duck (the woman above, a photographer, got knocked down and dragged fifty feet on the beach, and survived with a bloody face and broken arm).
You can be in for a great treat in the hours and nights following turbulent skies.
Humans do like wild weather. Some even paint it.
and the sweet aftermath……
(Photos of Storm Imogen from The UK Daily Mail, February 9, 2016)
HERON ON THE MEADOW ~~ Signs of Spring
My neighbor and I spotted a marvelous tall slim bird in the meadow this morning, and it obliged my closeness with it’s
remarkable calm, coming I imagine with the knowledge it can fly off when choosing to despite my enthusiastic admiration, and prior even to that greet me with a stern and serious eye to eye challenge to its territory. I don’t know what it sought here, or if it found the treat of frog or snake, the meal, the sustenance. Or if, soaring over one Sunday afternoon, returned simply because it wondered what this lovely patch of flat ground next to the river held. (And PS if you know birds and this is not a Heron please do tell.)
French Lavender, as well as the fruit trees in the neighborhood are in bloom. And daffodils.
The Carmel River, which by the way has gone from zero to 3 pairs of Mallard ducks in less than a week, and become a roaring fine waterway, wide, clear and deep again.
Last week four bold Kayakers showed for a day’s frivolity, and yesterday a fellow and his Labrador stopped off, and trotted out to center bridge to see what the steelhead situation was.
There was interesting man named Clyde who lived in the whereabouts of Big Sur, I have no idea exactly where, or if it was full-time van and campfire life. I’m not even 100% sure of his name, I think I got it right.
Clyde bred and raised dogs. They were all white, blue-eyed, and some exquisite combination of wolf or coyote and Shepherd and/or Husky. Clyde was very precise about the combination, he knew whose mate was who and when and where and how old.
I’ll say this about the fellow’s very mixed reputation (which ranged from fearsome to deranged to saintly), he raised the most marvelous dogs you would ever want to know in your life. Angelic, healthy, beautiful, dispositions of poets, and providing companions for a lot of locals who were lucky enough to end up with one of Clyde’s dogs. There are a lot of all white wolf-like dogs in the Santa Lucia hills there now.
He never seemed quite firmly robust, and sometimes the dogs looked underfed. When we met he was in what are stupidly noted as the golden sunset years of a life, which I suppose I now qualify for myself and I can tell you for a fact it’s hard work and not often golden or sunny. That takes more work than it used to. I took these photographs around 2010. Aren’t they beautiful creatures? Wish I’d noted their names.
I heard that Clyde died two years or so ago. I never did have a long conversation with him, not once; he’d spend time with locals he knew near my The Hawks Perch Gallery off Highway 1, at the pub next door.
I took these photographs with his permission. That’s Clyde’s hand assuring these handsome animals I could be trusted to get near his vehicle.
May they all be blessed in their lives after the loss of the ruffian who did such a nice job loving them. You can see in their eyes how they loved him back. Not a bad legacy, old boy. Au revoir, Clyde.
My darling standard old buddy computer crashed. I got about everything back (WHEW!) all my photos, boy was that scary. But not my email. I’ve been working on it about a week and not making any progress. I have a new email for contacting me though (hope springing eternal) eventually the old one may come back to life.
Please use this for now.
And anyone trying to reach me since last week, please give it another shot with this one.
NEW PAINTING: CARMEL VALLEY BISTRO ~BACKYARD
Oil on Canvas (Large, maybe 28 X 48 )
I’m not entirely sure this is done, I’ve been working on it awhile, then the temperature dropped (outdoor studio) and I’ve thought of a few more things to add….IFit warms up this week. Meanwhile, wanted to show it to you all, it’s been a great painting experience.
The Bistro no longer exists, it’s now the wine-tasting rooms of one of the many vineyards out here. I worked there in 1997, my first waitress job in California, exhausting two and three shifts a day because everyone always quit within hours. Run by maniacs. I was, despite the horrors, really glad to have a job and some place out of the rain.
My Luminous Window on the World
Far far away on the other side of our country….(though for years there were many things to love in my Brooklyn)….the rampant effusion of flowers to fill the eye and heart was satisfied only by long, hazard-filled, grimey subway trips to mossy walled, early NY Romanesque style architecture: protected hot houses, orangeries, botanical gardens. Or there were museums or picture books…or painting my own.
Tropical flowers were non-existant in shops, or scarce, or a king’s ransom. A standard 5 stem bouquet of yellow daisies, a single sunflower or Easter lily were barely within the budget. Then a miracle discovery of the Flower Market, in the West 20’s I think, wood boxes & metal stands filling block after block. And the dizzying morning glory of walking through those heavenly cropped fields, the intoxicating aromas, the brilliant colors. By noon, thousands of shoppers and walkers and every other marker but perhaps a single lavender petal, a curled and spotted white lily bloom left abandoned on the hosed down cement sidewalks, had vanished from the stage of that theatrical city, a life emptied. But the Flower Market was still a long haul from home and required a pre=dawn start up, and was really (despite the possible mind-blowing feast) a costly journey after all. I knew it was there. Having seen and walked it I could still picture it from afar.
Then I moved.
These photographs are from the current, seventh garden I’ve made to live inside of since coming west. I’m getting better all the time and this one’s a doozie.
Last week Safeway tossed their over-ripe bouquets into an accessable dumpster; my garden is having a fresh bloom of Spanish lavender; the huge Bird of Paradise has ten new budding stalks ~~which I’ve learned will thrive and open when cut; my African Violet is a constant purple thrill; and a spectacular old perfumed orchid which has been in my outside studio for a month (til the overnights dropped to the 30’s) and last night I brought it inside. It has been ufurling brand new blossoms, up to four open, three buds to go and perfumes the whole bungalow.
They crowd my tables by my window. I am thrilled to sit within inches of all this. The compulsion to share this seizes me every minute of the day and night. I want to give you a look and I encourage you to do the same which is to fill your own landscape to more, more more. (PS, in the background on the right here, the ruffled green leaf with the red edging is The River Nile Begonia, and really incredible.)
As Sir Mick Jagger said, “Anything worth doing is worth over-doing.”
Let the good times roll.