Leila, sunset, and things I've saved

Leila was one of our two dogs. Her mother was a chow, and her father was at least part Labrador. Her mom died shortly after giving birth, and the puppies were sent to a neighbor's to nurse with a dog that had recently given birth herself. This created quite a load for the adoptive mother dog, and probably also for the humans. Leila and her siblings were weaned and taken to the animal shelter earlier than one usually weans a litter. I have some puppy pictures of her that I'll scan sometime. She was a furball as a pup and very smart; as an adult she could look as elegant as a queen or as awkward as bull. I loved that dog to pieces!

Ms. Contortionist. Her favorite spot in the whole house was at the foot of the two carpteted steps that led from the kitchen down to the family room, which we used as an office. In the winter, it was a good place to feel the warmth of the wood stove, but she loved that spot in any season.

Sunset from the back yard. Palisade didin't get a lot of thunderheads and big exotic clouds, and in fact, most of the time the sunsets were kind of a bust. But on occasion we got the most wonderful array of colors, and clouds that defied arrangement.

These are things that I've carried with me for a long time. Everything has a story. The box with the spots and stripes was made by Kate and given to me, and it's part of a bigger story. The short version is, it's painted like a baby tapir. Maybe sometime I'll photograph and tell the longer story.

August 9, Astoria: Down to the Waterline Again

Astoria, Oregon ~ August 9, 2001

Back down to the river on a cloudless summer day.

That's the Baked Alaska building, and out of frame on the right is where the pilot boats dock. I'm posting this later, and I have no idea why I took so few photos. Maybe I still had a thing about using the up the space on the card.

Another vantage point . . . foreground and a reflection.

I can feel this day warming up with not a cloud in the sky. As I'm posting this later, I just looked back at the weather stats, and it got up to 86 degrees on this day. That's hot for Astoria. We don't get many like that, even in summer. It usually means there was an east wind blowing the heat from inland and blowing the clouds away.

This blog is sponsored by Tapir and Friends Animal Store.

Bookcliffs, Palisade, Colorado

There's not much to say. It was always amazing to me to see the changing colors of the bookcliffs and the sky. The three pix on this blog were taken from our front yard. Imagine looking at that every day. I never got tired of it.

This is looking approximately northeast. I-70 cuts around the base of the cliffs.

Here's looking a little more toward the east. the hills on the right are between us and Grand Mesa. If I'd turned a little further, you'd see the mesa. There's a bit of snow on the hills to the right.

Tapir/Art room, Palisade

All of the rooms had incarnations. This was near the end of my time in Palisade, and I'd started trying to paint again, to find myself with the medium. On the canvas with the tapirs, I'd painted everything except for the tapirs, and as of this writing (2008), I haven't finished it. The painting on the filing cabinets is from the 1980s. It's a detail - a big blow-up of some weeds alongside a road taken from a 19th Century line engraving and painted with a brush in pastel shading. I always liked it, and never painted anything else remotely similar. Taped on the wall is a xeroxed enlargement of a photo Stefan Seitz took of a baby Malayan tapir. I thought I might paint it someday or design it into a t-shirt. Two real tapir skulls sit on the filing cabinet along with the turpentine can (with Mona Lisa's picture on it), and the green blanket is a color I like. I still have it. Also on the filing cabinet is a black figure. I hope I have another photo somewhere. It's a fertility goddess or something like that; a big woman riding on a real deer skull. Marco bought it in the Philippines. It stayed with him in Colorado. The folded paper behind the turp can is a simple collage I made by gluing some picture on top of another; I don't remember the image exactly, but it almost came to mind. I had it around for quite awhile. The easel is a beautiful artwork in itself that Marco gave me and I still have. It folds up and you can carry it with your paint things inside. It's very clever and very heavy, too. The basket under the easel is one I still use as a trash can (for clean trash). I got it in Los Angeles for not much money at a basket store. It's tall and fits nicely in corners and other unexpected places where no other trash can will fit. And, it looks artistic and classy. I've stitched the bottom into it again. I hope it never wears out. The small red wooden thing is a book rack. I think I got that with Robin, and I think we got two of them. It was inexpensive, under two dollars, I think. And I always loved it, especially the color. The canvas(es) propped against the filing cabinet seem to be three that I hinged together to form a triptych, but then never used. There are a lot of memories in this little corner, but I also like the arrangement for what it is and how it looks. It was a simpler time, too. The file cabinets had tapir info and personal files. I've brought them to Oregon with me also. And, they've expanded. I thought this was going to be a quick and simple post!

Shark and lizard, Palisade, Colorado

This is a corner of our livingroom in Palisade, Colorado, in one of its incarnations. The book shelf is a special one I've kept with me for many years. The CD rack lizard was pretty new at the time. We didn't have much money and I'd agonized over buying it. It wasn't too expensive, but I worried over each dollar. I finally bought it and was glad I did. It kept the new collection of CDs organized and it was always fun to look at. I think Lorrie gave us the plastic shark. Everything else has a story, too, but that's it for tonight, kids.