THINGS TO REMEMBER

 

LABOR DAY

Since it's Labor Day, I was going to use a photo of a woman in labor, because I remember a Labor Day Weekend starting out for me in just that way forty years ago now.

So I went looking for photos and changed my mind about using any of them.

Because none of them reflect the reality of that particular labor.

The worst bit of it was in St. Cloud when I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to finish my drive to safety with a 14 month old and the new life my body was in the process of bringing into this world. I wept all the way back to the farmstead some miles from Cambridge, not from physical pain but because I had failed, a pain worse by far than any labor pangs. For the first time in my (since annulled) marriage I had been left a vehicle (just in case), and I *could* have escaped. But I couldn't. I failed in my bid for freedom for me and my children.

Back at the farm, I left our go-bags in the car and turned my mind to focusing on Helen and the new life, still nameless and genderless at the time but very much already an amazing individual. Serenity comes to mind.

Helen was her usual busy self, well used to me being round in the middle by then. She played while I cleaned and did dishes and laundry and what not all between contractions. Then we settled. Helen napped and my attention went inward.

I sang to my children until Lowell came out to the farm between the end of his teaching day and that evening's football game to check on us. He dropped me off at the hospital for safe-keeping, and Helen at a friend's house likewise - and off he went to get ready for the game.

I relaxed then. Staff was astute enough to just let us be, me and the new life I was bringing to the world. Serenity ruled. Between contractions I was mostly sleeping or at least dozing. During them, focusing on the powerful muscles that were doing the work and keeping the rest from doing much of anything at all commanded my attention.

The notes on the chart said it was a very relaxed and controlled labor and delivery. Which it basically was. The relaxation part started to lose ground when they didn't give me permission to PUSH until Lowell got there after the football game, and flew the coop entirely when he insisted on showing off his *coaching skills* by blowing in my face and trying to tell me what to do. But the control was there all the way through.

Now that I had permission, I pushed for all I was worth, mainly to get this part over and done with so Lowell would get the heck out of my face. Which he duly did once Sarah came triumphant into the world and he had preened more than a little before heading straight back out to the post-game coaches meeting.

Relieved, Sarah and I settled in, peaceful once more.

For forty years now, Labor Day Weekend has been a time of poignant remembering. Once I hit the workforce, I rarely actually had a Labor Day Weekend OFF - it has a very different significance for me.

Sure Ways to Tell a True Coloradan ...

[image is acrylic on a 100 year old cedar shake salvaged when replacing the shingles on a roof]

The following doesn't just apply to Coloradans, but to plenty of other folks as well.

It's a response to an article published by Out There Colorado which consisted of a list the likes of which, while newcomers to our state might heartily endorse it, is cringeworthy.

I cut this list off at fifty although I could have kept going and going and going.

You might be a true Coloradan IF ...

1. You learned what a buzzing rattler means at age two.

2. The first taste you remember loving is home made ice cream, have tasted the cold salty water, and turned the crank handle.

3. As a little kid, you've tromped around the house in Grandad's boots that come up to your thighs.

4. The first lesson you remember learning is to NEVER go out to check the cattle and horses without certain things.

5. You've found your way out to the remains of the homestead of your great-great-great grandparents. (what generation you're in determines how many *greats* you use)

6. You know what a kiva is and why they're important.

7. You know the value of high ceilings.

8. You've watched your town's beautiful old buildings go empty.

9. Seeing outsiders riding high and sassy kind of gets your goat at times.

10. Some of your friends' families have been here literally countless generations while yours is still *new* with only seven.

11. Your grandmother kept the ranch while your grandad went off to find paying work during the Great Depression.

12. You know that Santa Fe Trail Days are a celebration of conjoined cultures, people who have made it work despite (perhaps because of) differences.

13. Your horse, of his own volition, cut a troublemaker out of a *herd* and wouldn't let that boy get back to his friends - and I'm talking people here, not steers.

14. The power of a 360 degree sunrise or sunset makes you stop whatever you're doing and just absorb it.

15. You laugh at stories told by your dad and uncles about drunk hogs and a cow's leg coming through the ceiling of their bedroom.

16. An old rancher from clear across the state immediately *adopts* you because he knows who your grandfather is.

17. There is no better water in the world than what comes from the well at the *home place* that a water witch pinpointed way back when. A close second is a mountain spring coming out of the ground at about ten thousand feet.

18. You know the taste, and the smell, of fear - and you do what you have to do anyway, since quitting just because you're scared ain't an option.

19. The palms of your hands are well-calloused and you still get blisters sometimes.

20. You know what those glass gallon jugs covered with burlap are for, the ones hanging on some of the fence posts out in the middle of nowhere.

21. Turning your boots upside down and whopping them a couple of times before you put them back on is second nature.

22. Wiping sweat out of your eyes makes you cuss and smile at the same time. The cussing is because it kind of burns; the smile is because, if you have to wipe the sweat, that means it's not evaporating immediately so you know the weather's not as hot and dry as it *could* be.

23. You fully comprehend and appreciate the concept of *siesta*.

24. The dangers of green chili are to be respected, and you know to have a dish of ice cream with it.

25. You can't remember the last time you didn't cold camp.

26. One of your favorite activities is driving up and down a canyon, or an open road for that matter, at different times of the day, just to see how much it *changes* between full dark, dawn, and dusk, and from opposite directions.

27. You've had to figure out a way to turn around at a crick crossing because a flash flood made it impassible.

28. You know that day and dark kind of ease their way in, out on the prairie. In the mountains, it's more of an abrupt transition. Plan accordingly.

29. When you're out in the wide open spaces, it's harder for weather to *sneak up on you*. You'll feel it coming a good while before you actually see it in the distance.

30. Orienting yourself in terms of time and direction by using the sun, moon, and stars is automatic. Otherwise you'd need a watch and a compass.

31. You know how to cope with just about any type of situation, and fix any number of unorthodox problems, mainly because you've had to figure so much out the hard way, all by your lonesome, when there was nobody else around at the moment and it had to be done. 

32. You're fiercely independent but totally love everyone around you.

33. Self-sufficiency is a survival tool.

34. You tend to prepare ahead of time for countless eventualities, because you never know what's around the next bend so to speak. So you've got Plan A, Plan B, Plan C, Plan D, Plan E, Plan F, Plan G - and can mix and match them at will if need be.

35. You fret about crops, calves, and coyotes - not about how much powder the ski slopes have or whether someone's hat matches their snowboard.

36. You smile and wave at everyone you see - because they either have been there when you needed them (and vice versa) or will be if necessary.

37. The people in your immediate vicinity are of at least four different colors (and blends thereof), have a wide variety of personal lifestyle choices, diverse income levels - and none of those things matter so long as you pitch in and have a decent attitude.

38. Your work vehicle is liable to carry multiple scratches, dents, dust and/or dried mud, along with a wide assortment of tools, a bunch of rocks, extra gas, oil, coolant, and a gallon of drinking water. Also probably a bedroll just in case.

39. You've fallen into a cactus and learned to WEAR your gloves, not just keep them hanging out of your back pocket all the time. This will also teach you the value of wearing sturdy jeans and boots, even if they're hot.

40. You've dipped a hatful of water out of a stock tank and dumped it over your head.

41. You know full well that dogs and horses understand you better than you do.

42. You know which soapweed buds are going to taste like garden peas and which ones are going to taste like soap.

43. Too many people in the same place at the same time for too long gets on your nerves.

44. You have a deep pity for urban-dwellers, but draw the line when they get obnoxious for no good reason.

45. Your grandparents taught you that if you really need to talk to God, the ranch is the best place for it. Church is good, but if you want that *alone time* with God, go out to where there's nobody else around except for maybe a few of His other critters who aren't going to tell anyone if you cry.

46. You have a legacy to live up to. So you do your best, don't give up when you hit the dirt, and keep on keeping on no matter what.

47. You wear your hat to keep the sun out of your eyes and your head halfway protected, or maybe to swat somebody with, not as an accessory to your outfit.

48. Good Mexican cuisine is beyond compare, and when you find someone who can make a proper tortilla you've found a treasure. Get them to teach you how.

49. You know the way to your favorite mountain places, and they probably aren't on the Front Range.

50. You know to slow down BEFORE the pavement ends.

RICIMER - TANGLED TIMES

A little boy, aware of his Destiny, sure of his determination to fulfill it …

a youngling lad, far from home so that he can master the knowledge and skills he will need in order to succeed, surrounded always by those from whom and with whom he is taught, yet alone always, alone with the demands of his Destiny …

a young man developing ties which will further his career, ties that will prove vital as the motion of his Destiny carries him ever onward along that path …

a man grown, gathering into his own fists the lines of control, sure of his direction, confident in the strength of those ties and of the lines of authority which carry the strength to his own hands …

a man, solitary, whose supports are one by one by one knocked from beneath him until when finally, in death, he can say the words “We did it” most of the companions, the ‘WE’ to which he refers, have gone on ahead of him into death.

They say we all die alone … but … maybe not.

One man.

One Destiny.

Not to rule but to break forever the power of ‘Comply or Die’.

Not to force his own will, but to force the Peoples of Europe to find, forge, fight for, and follow their Own Will.

One man.

One Destiny.

A continent at his command.

Hear the command of Ricimer:

‘Think or Sink!’

‘Fight or Fall!’

‘If not now, when? If not you, who?’

One man.

One Destiny.

Ricimer opens the maw of the smelter – and some call it hell – whose fire already burns, shoves in the raw ore, works the bellows, and steps away.

‘Think or Sink!’

‘Fight or Fall!’

‘Choose or Lose!’

‘Freedom belongs to you. Where now your Faith? Who cares for your Family but you? Choose wisely your Friends lest they become your foes. You hold in your hands, today, the Future of generations not yet even conceived.’

Such is the message of Ricimer to all of the Peoples he encounters.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again.

He tells the Peoples until his throat is raw, his voice hoarse.

‘You have now, today, the Freedom to Choose,’ he tells them. ‘Find the Will to do so.’

The maw is open.

‘Now CHOOSE!’ he shouts.

And shoves the Peoples of Europe into the gaping maw of the smelter from which will emerge the Iron Will of the Peoples.

One man.

One Destiny.

A mother weeps for her son, who must do what no other can or will, no matter what.

Ullin of Iona counts, again, the Tears of Anna.

Getting back into RICIMER mode ... BUT MEANWHILE ...

Let it be a challenge to me.

We left him at age 12 with almost the whole of his very active life ahead of him.

He's got places to go, things to do, people to see.

Protege of Aetius, along with Majorian and Aegidius, Ricimer's Destiny is not going to be an easy one.

In between us abandoning Ricimer in the days of his youth, Our Characters have taken the bit in their collective teeth and skipped ahead to when they journey to America in the year 1600. Two of the AINE Books are written and in print (and on Kindle). Then we skip ahead yet again to meet the lot of them in the 1800s - in America's Wild West. That they bring their own Wild Ways with them is a given since the Young Ones show up (Colum, Saorsa, Marra, and Mamm the Younger). IF you've met them already, you don't need to wonder that the American West might be just about to get a little more wild than it already was.

This is the painting I used for the cover of the 'Go West!' book that has Our Characters moving from western Kansas into eastern Colorado, and then preparing for their next western move - to the Colorado Rockies.

So ... it's going to be a toss-up between RICIMER and these Characters of the American West (along with finishing the rest of the AINE Books) as to which will manage to get done in what order.

Stay tuned.

CATCHING UP WITH ARTWORK

These three were painted for the 2019 Las Animas Art Show in conjunction with the annual Santa Fe Trail Day Celebration. The 2019 theme was TRAILBLAZERS AND STARGAZERS.

Titled 'Go West!' this depicts an early morning leave-taking by a small group of covered wagons. 

The piece is 2' x 2', acrylic on fabric.

I titled this one simply 'Grandad', used a photo of my grandfather riding a bronc, 

paired it with a background of an early spring morning,

and used acrylic and texturing on really rough canvas.

aka 'Trailblazer'

Here is the 'Stargazer' part of things. 

The 'ghostly silhouette' effect is because this is the back of the original.

I messed up the front sky & couldn't fix it, so flipped it.

Acrylic on fabric.

So those are the pieces for that art show.

Going back a bit further:

Someone from Denver commissioned two pieces, both fairly large.

Here's the mock-up for one of them:

Acrylic on rough canvas, this little piece is probably about a foot by a foot and a half.

Here's the finished piece sized 5' x 2':

It's resized her to 30% of the original photo size.

Here's the reverse of it, just because ... 

The 'because' is that we wanted this one to be able to be back-lit.

Used very lightweight fabric stretched very tight so the pigments would bleed through.

This back view of the piece has an abstract look to it. 

The foreground is Not overlaid onto the background.

The other commissioned piece turned out to be two back-to-back on the same piece of fabric (the same lightweight tightly stretched as the above piece, only with many layers of paint); one side textured, the other side not ... same essential scene but very different looks. The story behind that is that the front (textured) side had me so frustrated that I needed a break from it. So I flipped it and let the flip side relax me enough to re-tackle the front. 

When I get time I'll do a post in my artwork blog about the process of getting this 6' x 3' piece developed. For now, here's the front:

It's an early morning dawning from up on a mountain,

looking south toward another range.

Here's the 'other side':

Same view, different mood.

And again a bit further back - these next two are from 2018 December - about five feet by two-and-a-half or so.

ASPEN QUEEN (one of the variations) acrylic on cotton; designed to be back-lit.

Don't mind the shadows - these photos were taken hurriedly 

as they were being loaded into someone's vehicle.

This one has a tri-color base coat: 

cobalt blue top; off-white center; dark lower.

Then over-painted.

You want more?

Okay, we can do that.

Here's one I did just for the fun of it - on that rough canvas:

Texture with acrylic.

Coming back to the present, here's a set of hand-painted note cards. I painted a lot of them outside up in the mountains. Parked my vehicle on a pull-over along Phantom Canyon in the Colorado Rockies, pulled out my ancient little card table and newer camp-chair, unpacked my artwork 'go-kit', and ... just painted ... Others were done in my sister's cottage-studio, wood-fire keeping it toasty.

These next couple are waiting for over-lay.

There are a bunch more similar to these in various colors/combinations, so I've got some over-laying to get done! I may use paint; I may use ink ... we shall see what we shall see !! I'm just grateful to have this time up here to spend on this.

Does it feel a mite odd to be going from big paintings to little ones?

Yes.

You've already seen one of the texture/acrylic pieces on 100 year old cedar shake - there are more of them, and more plain acrylic on plain wooden plaques - but their photos aren't going to get added today!

artwork on 100 year old cedar shakes

One of my favorites:

It's acrylics and texturing on the cedar shake that came off the roof of my old house.