No, no, the other one.
Tag: the natures
Quote: Man, That’s Cold
On a Christmas Day we were mushing our way
from The Cremation of Sam McGee, by Robert W. Service
over the Dawson trail.
Talk of your cold! through the parka’s fold
it stabbed like a driven nail.
I’m considering committing to the position that this is the best poem ever written.
Latest View of Big Southern Butte
Can you spot it?
This wasn’t done from a photograph, as you can tell by the lack of detail. It wasn’t done plein-air either, but it was closer to a plein-air painting.
A few weeks ago, after I had gone outside to feed the hens, I was greeted by this scene. The sun hadn’t yet reached our homestead, but it was striking the hills up northaway. I stood there for a few moments memorizing the colors and thinking about how I would paint it. Then, over the course of the next week, whenever I had a chance I would add to the painting. I painted only when there was natural light in the studio. Pretend plein-air, if you will.
Let me show you my process …
Step 1: cover the canvas in light green for the sky and light grey for the predawn snow.
Step 2: add BSB and its mountain friends in appropriate dawn colors.
Step 3: the lava fields near them have not yet been hit by the sun, so they are navy blue.
Step 4: add stripes of cloud, just as they looked on that morning.
And finally, add distant trees, canal edge, ploughed-up snowy field with tire tracks, and black road with tire tracks in the snow.
Merry Christmas!
Baby Chicks’ Field Trip
This is their first trip outside in the grazer after being in the garage under the red heat lamp. As you can see, their main concern is to drink water.
After the Great Chicken Massacre of 2023, we waited impatiently until we could buy more chickens at the farm store. This time, we bought one of each kind of layer they had. With these seven, plus Jane Wayne, our run will be full up.
If they all survive to adulthood, we will have …
- Henrietta (the Americauna – dark stripe down her back)
- Lapis (the Sapphire Gem)
- Mad Max (the Rhode Island Red)
- Sally (the Buff Orpington)
- Susan Kamkwamba (the Brown)
- Barb (the Barred Rock)
- Fatima Leghorn (the white Leghorn)
… in addition to big sister Jane Wayne.
Mesa Falls, Idaho
Mesa Falls is located up in the northeastern area of Idaho. If you head due east from there, you’ll find yourself crossing the border into Wyoming and into Yellowstone National Park. It’s also near popular campsite Island Park, as well as near lots of hunting and fly fishing, well-positioned to attract people who are enjoying all the beauties of the region.
As you can see from the map above, Mesa Falls lies in part of an old caldera. The earth’s crust has moved, putting the fresh caldera under Yellowstone National Park. Hence the geysers that can be found in Yellowstone, and the eerie, sulfur-scented, brightly colored, deadly hot springs (which incidentally play a cameo role in my book The Strange Land).
This summer, I went up to Ashton, Idaho for a writing retreat. (What was I writing? That is for me to know and for you to find out!) Ashton is a relatively small, relatively remote town, but it’s touristy because of its proximity to hunting, fishing, and the Yellowstone area. I stayed in a mom ‘n’ pop motel consisting of camping cabins that have been there for ages.
On the way back from Ashton to my home stompin’ grounds, it would have made sense for me just to get on the highway and go south. But my husband has hike radar, which lets him know whenever he is within twelve hours’ drive of a good hike. This radar also works remotely, when someone he knows is in range of a good hike. So he let me know that I should go north instead, view Mesa Falls, and then head back. As it was a Sunday afternoon, I did so.
Mesa Falls is on a forest service road or something like that, so my paper map actually showed the road ending well before I got there. Thankfully, in real life it continued.
Here is proof I was there.
The hike was not at all demanding. There’s a capacious parking lot ($5 entry, envelope system), and then a series of well-maintained steps and boardwalks that bring you down to the very top of the falls, with many specially designed niches for selfies.
I did not bother to photograph the other falls-goers, but place was packed.
Now I’ll post some short videos I took of the falls.
The cliff opposite the falls was lush and green due to the permanent plume of mist that hits it.
Harvest Wreath
Here it is. I made this from wheat stalks that I cut from a wheat field literally yards from my front door.
I mounted them on a $2 wire wreath frame, using a $3 roll of florist’s wire.
Just one thing I’d do differently … projects with wheat are best done outdoors. Those spines are really difficult to get out of the carpet.
Welcome to my Art Show
I call it, “The Many Moods of Big Southern Butte.”
These are all 12×12 paintings, and they will all be for sale at American Falls Days in early August.
These two sunset ones are already claimed.
Plus, a bonus farm painting…
New Farmland Painting just dropped
I swear I am not making this up.
Some late Spring evenings really do look like this, from our house, looking north.
This is a view of Big Southern Butte at the moment long after sunset when the entire sky is pink and the ground is mostly too dark to see, other than that it is dark green.
Behind Big Southern Butte, you can see the beginnings of the Pioneer Mountains.
I did this quickly, using blocks of color, similar to my farm painting last year. That one portrayed a wheat field just beginning to turn yellow; this field is much younger, still green.
The road barely glimmers in the gloaming.
The green in the foreground is our front lawn.
Here it is, photographed in low light:
Out of Babel Books 