We finally had a week to drive to Sequoia, Kings and Yosemite National Parks. Our first stop was a little agricultural town named Reedley that reminded me of pretty much any small community in the Midwest. We'd all be well served reminding ourselves that we have more in common than not regardless of what state or country we live in. TV and movie portrayals of "coastal elites" in the U.S. are representative of a miniscule minority. And even they can’t pay other people to take their shits for them.
The purpose of our stay in Reedley was meeting up for a home-cooked dinner with friends and patrons who found my work on eBay when we lived in in Detroit. Not everyone who scored a promotional steal went on to buy original art at a price that reflects my efforts, but this couple commissioned two paintings inspired by sequoias and their support was much appreciated. Even back in the day I didn't take on projects I wasn't excited enough about to do well. There are lots of other good artists out there who specialize in things I don't. But trees...trees I already knew I wanted to see myself someday I could approach enthusiastically. I paint differently these days and am largely inspired by nature I’ve seen in person. That said, I'm no longer embarrassed by what I made at the time, an attitude I've had to cultivate a bit. One may as well own one's past while continuing to grow, particularly when people were financially supportive and still own the work.
Aside from seeing the big trees, my dream that I didn't really expect to come true was finding Cypripedium montanum, a rare in California lady's slipper orchid species. I couldn't believe my eyes when we turned a bend and saw this. We went back a second day to further appreciate it. It was buggy, hot and worth it. I loaded up with certain OTC drugs so I could deal with it because heat shreds my system. As a Torrey pine, I would like it to be 65°F with a heavy fog until around noon.
No trip to Yosemite National Park is complete without embarrassing oneself with a stab at black and white photography. Self-deprecating “joke” aside, I paid at least some dues developing piles of of T-Max 100 and printing on Ilford paper while in school at the University of Michigan. Film is beautiful at its best, but this method results in fewer caustic chemicals going down the drain and that’s what keeps the Canon Mark III around my neck to the point of bad posture and the Leica M6 in the closet.
Leichtlin's mariposa lily (Calochortus leichtlinii). I did the plant dance when I found it because I adore genus Calochortus, so much so that I had my book about them in tow so I could ID any I found without relying on my connection to what passes for civilization.
Sequoia skin. One of the few really big ones I was able to touch, not that I’m opposed to the barriers for obvious reasons.
This was a reminder to me that there’s nothing new about the proclivity of some to deny reality which doesn’t make the repercussions of their anti-intellectualism any less harmful.
Delays getting in and out of Yosemite to accommodate trucks moving lumber were frequent and long.
Just chilling watching frogs and birds with an IPA in paw. It looks peaceful, no? It wasn’t. Our cul-de-sac in San Diego is comparatively quiet as longs as the neighbors’ mow and blows aren’t around. Overheard while there from a biker dude to his lady: “I didn’t travel 800 miles from Arizona to listen to someone else’s videos.” Preach…
Wawona Tunnel. Nuclear arms races are a thing of the past now, right? …
Snow plant (Sarcodes sanguinea) is a beautiful saprophyte.
It’s not like I wasn’t going to take a photo or two of Half Dome. And, yes, there should be plants in the foreground IMO.
The big trees are undeniably wonderful, but this manzanita mini tunnel in Kings Canyon National Park was the plant hug I needed away from home.
This is the bear who totaled our Jeep rental and stole our homemade GORP bars.