by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Kids, Uncategorized |
These are the trees around my house. Ponderosa Pine. And yes, they are as big as they look. Bigger, even. I mean, they’re huge. Positively enormous. Makes you dizzy just looking up. And up. And up and up and up because there’s a gazillion of ’em on our property alone. So many trees you can’t even count that high. Because we are surrounded by the Tahoe National Forest. In other words, we live in the deep, dark…woods.
As do lions and tigers and bears, oh my!
Okay, no tigers. But mountain lions, yes. Bears, you betcha. In fact once upon a time Bubba (best dog EVER, R.I.P.) sent one scurrying up that middle tree. Yes, that one right there. Bears, or at least this one, can leap tall buildings trees with a single bound. But this wasn’t your run of the mill tall tree, this was a gigundo Ponderosa. Took that bear three clumps till he reached the top.
I know because I was there. Way, I mean way, too close. I could’ve reached out and touched Mr. Bear as he raced by. You would race like that too, if Bubba was snapping and snarling on your tail. Check him out down below. Ferocious dog, eh?
Yep, here he is with his girl a few years back. No greater love hath a child than the dog they grew up with.
But back to the woods. And the critters. An interesting assortment we have here. Besides the native wildlife we have monkeys. Uh-huh. Do too. Just ask Ingrid, my niece. We’ve even gone monkey hunting on my property, she and I. Didn’t catch any monkeys but we saw some monkey nests and that’s almost as good.
And we have UNICORNS! Yes we do, Ingrid says so. Here they are, right here.
Wheew, well I think that’s enough excitement for now. Unless you’ve got some critter encounters you’d like to share. Anybody?
by Susan Lobb Porter | Food, Life |
Summer ended last week. The calendar said so.But here it is nearly October and look what’s still growing fat on the vine.
October! These suckers should be shriveled up and long gone by now. Or filling up bear bellies. Just look at ’em.
LOOK AT THEM!!! Fat and juicy and about as sweet as they come. Here I am picking my breakfast. Note to Mr. Spouse: Some of us happen to LIKE blackberries. Some of us do NOT think they’re invasive pests!
A little rinse, just because…because it makes a good photo. I mean, look at that water. Wasn’t easy doing it one handed. Note to fans of The Office, especially Miss Daughter : No, I’m NOT going to say “That’s what she said.”
Add some yoghurt and there it is–a bowl full of summer. Mmmmmm…better enjoy it while I can, weather’s supposed to change next week.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Beloved Beasties, Ponies |
This is Lana Mama Horse. AKA Boss mare. She’s thirty-one which in horse years is the equalivant of, oh…I dunno, maybe damn near dead. She’s in pretty good shape for an old lady. Doesn’t have to do much these days but eat and hang out with her pony peeps. Pin back her ears, shake her head and boss ’em around when the mood strikes.
Oh, and indulge my artistic tendencies and let me draw on her dusty ass from time to time. Like this.
And this:
Horseback Writing. Rump Doodles. Rural Graffiti. Whatever you want to call it, it’s leaving my mark on a horse’s ass.
Technical details for you arty types: Substrate, pony butt. Tools: Pointer finger (left hand). Medium: Dust. Archival rating: Less than 10 minutes.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Beloved Beasties, Photography |
I’m not a photographer but these days I’m packin’ a camera like a TV cowpoke and his six-shooter. Of course this analogy only works if you watch 50’s reruns on The Western Channel or are older than dirt and have a thing about Little Joe and/or Marshall Dillon.
Which I’m not. And I don’t. Well, maybe Little Joe, just a little, back in the day. He had a cool horse. Mine was a stick. Had a sock head with a yarn mane. Best damn horse I ever had. Never once had to clean up his poo, unlike some other horses I know.
But back to the cameras. I never leave home without one. I’ve got three of ’em. Five if I count some early digitals gathering dust upstairs. Blows me away that the camera in my iPhone is way–I mean way–better than the one I Mr. Spouse spent big bucks on ten years ago. Not complaining, just wondering what George Eastman would think of all this.
The other day I was sitting with Studio Quat on the sofa swing in front of the studio. I had a camera in hand and started snapping pictures. Just playing. Then I decided to see how macro was macro on an older Canon Elph SD1000. Older being at least six years.
Here’s what I got.
Kind of fuzzy. Not great. Shows her age, which in cat years is life # 8.5 . She was only mildly interested in what I was doing as it didn’t involve food. Or scratchy fingers.
So I moved in a little closer.
And closer.
The question was how close could I move in before she got pissed off. Because I was, like, right in her face.
At least this close.
And that was about it. Maybe I could’ve gotten closer but LOOK at those eyes…. You think she was telling me something?
No details on the camera. Just disable the flash, put it in macro then point and shoot. And be extra considerate of your subject when you’re so into their space. Especially when they have claws. And they know how to use them.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Family, Life, Parents |
I lost Mama this past spring. Actually, I used to lose her a lot, usually in the grocery store. It’s amazing how someone who moved at the speed of shuffle could disappear–poof–just like that. I would go back and forth, back and forth, backandforth until I was nearly crazy, searching and checking every aisle and she would always be one end-cap out of sight. Just one. Meanwhile grocery disaster was occurring in my cart. Melting,wilting, bacterial breeding disaster.
But this post isn’t about misplacing Mama in the local IGA. And it’s not about food safety either. It’s about losing her one last time. Losing her to The Candy-man.
He came when she was dying. At that point in her transition when she had one foot in both worlds. He stood on the far side of her bed and offered her candy. Or so Mama said. She was the only one who could see him. Was this her guide to the other side? Jesus? Or maybe I was witnessing the origin of the old adage don’t take candy from strangers.
He came bringing Tootsie Rolls.
Tootsie Rolls? Not my idea of heaven-bait. I told her not to rush in to this candy offer. Hold out for the good stuff. Go for the yummy rich melt-in-your-mouth dark chocolate. The stuff to die for.
But don’t cross over for a Tootsie Roll. I mean, really…
And I told him the same thing. My Mama don’t come cheap. If he wanted her, he had to up the ante. Trick or Treat candy was low-ball. She wasn’t going anywhere for anything under 72% dark, 85% even better. I had been her advocate and protector for the last seven years, I wasn’t going to fail her now.
A couple days later, two weeks shy of her ninety-sixth birthday, she was gone. She died in her home, the cottage she’d rented from me the last seven years of her life, my former studio, remodeled and re-purposed as the place my mother could live out the rest of her days. We were all with her when her time came–the family, her priest and who knows, maybe even the Candy-Man.
After the craziness, the cleaning, the sorting, the giving away…the sisters returning to their homes on the other side of the country, the other side of the world, Mr. Spouse and I sat down to discuss the cottage. He wanted to rent it out. I wanted to reclaim my studio.
But for seven years I hadn’t done much in the way of making art. I’d given up my galleries and shows and hunkered down taking care of Mama. And doing my day job, teaching. Why did I need a studio?
Because I have dreams, that’s why….
We compromised, agreed on a year trial. See if I get back in the groove of making art as a living. Or not.
The first two months I did nothing. Didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what my artistic voice was anymore. More than once I thought Mr. Spouse might be right, maybe we should just rent the place out. Before I gave up I signed up for an on-line class, Plaster Studio Workshop with Judy Wise and Stephanie Lee. You can get their book here. Matter of fact, buy two. Or three. ‘Cause it’s that good. (You’re welcome, ladies) And that’s all it took, seriously, all it took to spin me around and get the art mojo going again. To start waking up HAPPY. To get my hands dirty and make a creative mess and pull paintings from the center of my soul like I have never, EVER painted before.
I miss Mama, oh, how I miss her. But it’s okay, y’know because I KNOW whatever world she’s in now there’s got to be chocolate. No way she would’ve gone if there wasn’t.
And I’m okay with that.
There’s chocolate in Studio Grande as well, but most of all, there’s PASSION. And I’m definitely okay with that.
by Susan Lobb Porter | Art, Life |
That’s about it. Oh, and breathe.
