We have had a lot of rain this year in California, and throughout both ends of the state. North and south. As a result, the hills are a brilliant lime green, and when the sun hits just right, it’s hard to believe our once beige state has blossomed into such beauty. The wildflower bloom is beginning, from the desert to the high Sierra. Cacti, poppies, lupines, and so many other flowers await our eager eyes.
Weeks go by and it seems you go nowhere interesting. A trip to the market, and then a walk around the neighborhood. Oh, other things happen, like a phone call or a visit with a friend, but still, life seems uneventful. Not that I want a lot of “events” – they don’t usually bring good news – but I do like a change of scenery. So, when it happens, and the wind is up, the sun is out, the rain is falling on you, rainbows come and go, and you are pounding away on wet sand, head in the wind, life is pretty darn good. Accompanied by the esposo and friends of yore, it makes for a wonderful day. End it with someone’s excellent cooking, how can you complain?
A few weeks ago, our friends Doug and Sheelah, up in Carpinteria, invited us to visit. I’ve been friends with them since before forever, and the town they live in is a small beach community north of us by about 50 miles. I lived there when I was in college, on an avocado ranch where the laborers sang Spanish songs at 5:30 a.m. – a nice way to wake up, along with the clucking of chickens and the crowing of roosters. The beauty of Carpinteria is that it is blessed with a wonderful state park that runs along much of the city itself, moving from wide flat beaches to bluffs which overlook a seal rookery, which is home to mothers, fathers, and newborn babies in the first part of each year.
Sunday afternoon was a windy, blustery day, with remnants of storm clouds gusting in from the north, white caps out to sea, and an occasional wild sprinkling of rain. The sky, though blue, bore thick clouds, and the wind was fierce enough to blow fine sand in rivulets in front of you when your back was to the wind, and fill your eyes and mouth with grit when you were facing it. The cold, too, was biting (for us thin-blooded Californians), and an insulated, windproof jacket, along with hats and hoods made you a lot more comfortable than not. It was so cold, Sheelah went back home and changed from a down jacket to a windbreaker, hat, and long scarf. We waited in the wind for her.
As always, a beach is a treasure chest. Shells, rocks, driftwood, flotsam and jetsam. Sheelah found a beauty of a stone, a jasper veined with white, and a clam shell.
The bluffs host a variety of things. Ranches and small industry, railroad tracks, piers to launch boats for the oil rigs offshore, trails, and seals. Here we began our ascent onto the bluffs.
From here, we continued along the pathways, weaving near the edge of the bluffs and inland, the Pacific on one side, the flat land on the other. Trees vary from native Monterrey cypress (I think that is the correct name) to eucalyptus. The trees at the edge are twisted and tormented by the winds.
A bit away from the shore, sunflowers are already in bloom beneath the old eucalyptus and other coastal trees. The brilliant colors are so welcome after months of drought and brown, dried, dead plants.
The seal rookery, or sanctuary, was not very populated when we looked down at it. The tide was out, so perhaps were the seals; as well, the storms of this season may have discouraged a lot of sex in the sand and babies on the beach. 
The Carpinteria Seal Sanctuary is observable from the bluffs. Pupping season begins in December. Above the sanctuary are benches and paths so the seals may be seen, but left undisturbed (one hopes) by humans. This video shows the seal sanctuary as I have seen it in earlier years.
As our earth changes and populations increase and resources lost, such sites are increasingly more important for wildlife. Below is a view from the cliffs. We saw about 4 or 5 seals, well disguised as rocks. The sanctuary is an important area for wildlife. I’ve been here in other years, and there are mothers and babies everywhere, fat and floppy on the sand.
All along the way, to and fro our 3.5 mile walk, there was much to see, whether on the phone lines or in the camping area of the state park. People were out and about, running, bicycling, and just enjoying a brisk, beautiful day.
Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon! Doug and Sheelah are wonderful people and great friends to spend time with. We feel pretty lucky to live in such a beautiful area and have the blessing of wonderful friends and family nearby.
Last summer we ran away from home, up the coast, to La Purisima Mission in the area of Lompoc, California. It’s a small town with a wonderful secularized California Mission, La Purisima, restored by the state during the Depression. It has gardens, outbuildings, a wonderful historical center, and is a lovely place to walk around on a sunny day. I took my camera with me, and today’s painting is based upon the photograph below.
This little patch of weeds is located on the backside of the mission, and I found it so charming. The weeds are typical California plants – hardy, drought resistant, resinous. Grasses and flowers. Furry leaves. All these help keep the plants from drying out in the relentless sun and low humidity.
I am not really sure if I caught what I wanted to do with this photograph, but I am pleased enough to put my name on the scan I used a lot of the techniques I learned from Rick Surowicz’s Fall Lake video.
Putting on the frisket was scary. I was so unsure about it, but knowing the only way to learn was to do, I did! Blobs, lines, sprinkles and splatters of frisket. Paint. Paint some more. Finally I arrived at a point where I just didn’t think I could go any further, and it is at this point I stopped. And then removed the frisket. More paint added here and there, lines, whatever. The final result is below.
We went to visit the La Purisima Mission nearby in Lompoc, California. It’s a state park which is a rebuild of the mission itself, which was destroyed in the 1812 earthquake. The mission rebuild was part of the Civilian Conservation Corps of the 1930s during the Depression. This is from a photo of the roof. The perspective is off, and it’s a bit muddy, but it was a lot of fun trying to figure out how to make the color for the curved tiles.
The studio is finally sort of back together. It was torn apart for flooring installation. Putting it back is slow – I didn’t realize how much stuff I had packed away in it, and how little I want to put back into it other than painting supplies, photography equipment, and books. It’s not gonna be easy.
So what! When in doubt, paint! And poppies are the best in a California spring!
Ink, Yarn & Beer 