Freezing Feeding

20131212-140020.jpgThis is Lisa, a woman after my own heart. She has raised chickens in the hostile climate and conditions of Northern New Mexico for years and cares for them greatly. She fights off coyotes, bobcats and badgers, as well as sub-freezing winter temperatures, to protect her flock. Here she is feeding her flock a recent 20 degree morning.

20131207-140910.jpgMy friend Rick sent me a small photo and the above story describing Lisa. I started with a underpainting in a warm, grey violet because it sets a great overcast mood. The photo was small, so it was fun to fill in the fuzzy areas with color from my imagination. I intentionally left the hens as a blocked in mass of colors. If you have ever fed chickens, you know they never would sit still long enough to capture their beauty (at least mine won’t). I like how blobs of color allow them to move in my mind.

Monday’s Washday

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A clothesline was a news forecast,
To neighbors passing by,
There were no secrets you could keep,
When clothes were hung to dry.
It also was a friendly link,
For neighbors always knew
If company had stopped on by,
To spend a night or two.
For then you’d see the “fancy sheets”,
And towels upon the line;
You’d see the “company table cloths”,
With intricate designs.
The line announced a baby’s birth,
From folks who lived inside,
As brand new infant clothes were hung,
So carefully with pride!
The ages of the children could,
So readily be known
By watching how the sizes changed,
You’d know how much they’d grown!
It also told when illness struck,
As extra sheets were hung;
Then nightclothes, and a bathrobe too,
Haphazardly were strung.

It also said, “On vacation now”,
When lines hung limp and bare.
It told, “We’re back!” when full lines sagged,
With not an inch to spare!
New folks in town were scorned upon,
If wash was dingy and gray,
As neighbors carefully raised their brows,
And looked the other way.
But clotheslines now are of the past,
For dryers make work much less.
Now what goes on inside a home,
Is anybody’s guess!
I really miss that way of life,
It was a friendly sign
When neighbors knew each other best…
By what hung out on that line.

(Author unknown)

Karate Girl

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I distinctly remember the cold, rainy afternoon that I met this delightful, young lady. She was very much a little girl at the time. We were camping in Leadville, CO and she spent an afternoon playing in our campsite with our two year old son. He left no puddle un-splashed and she skipped and frolicked and sang in the loveliest soft voice. She seemed so tall and full of poise. I attributed these traits to the 5 year age difference and the fact that she is a girl not a rowdy little boy. Here we are a decade later, and it turns out she still sings like a bird and she turned into a very beautiful, very tall teenager who is still full of poise. She can also sweat, and spar and hold her own in a martial arts fight against any rowdy boy. My guess is by the end of the day I will need to change the color of this belt from brown to black. I am so proud of you Taylor, good luck today.

Cloudcroft Afternoon

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I love the grey days we have been having in North Texas lately, the atmosphere has a quiet quality. As I have been running around the last few days, I have been color mixing in my head…dappled yellow and gold foliage against a warm grey sky. I haven’t gotten out to paint it yet, wet weather is tricky with pastels in plein air, perhaps next week. In the meantime I went through my photos, this one is from Cloudcroft New Mexico, it was late summer and the trees were green, but the wildflowers and overcast sky satisfied my immediate desire to paint yellow and grey.

Last Drop of Summer’s Perfume

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Two nights ago I grabbed all the basil from our garden, and rather unceremoniously plunked them (root balls and all) into a spaghetti pot filled with water to save them from a hard freeze. We had several large and healthy basil plants, so they look rather out of place on my counter until they meet their fate as pesto. The Thai basil was in bloom, so this little bunch made a perfect subject for a still life.

Afternoon Light on Cut Hay

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The influence of the impressionist on my perception is strong. Sometimes when I look at a pond filled with waterlilies, or a field of cut hay it brings tears to my eyes imagining the impressionists studying their subject matter. If the impressionists would have been in Texas, they would have painted the wildflowers, for honestly, the quality of the light is not that remarkable. This field had lovely strong shadows, but the color was muted. I am in Texas, not France, but because the impressionist painted, I know what is possible. I followed the light and shadow, but imagined the color, and was pleased with the result.

Rockledge Rumble

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It was a beautiful early morning by the lake, and I had a perfect spot waiting for my trail runners so I did a little plein air study.

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Here is my last runner, so ready or not my study is done and I am off to the rest of my day. Good to get outside and paint and support the fine sport of trail running.