Cottonwood glory

 

"Cottonwood Glory," 5 x 8, 140 lb d'Arches cold press paper

Aspen claim the high country glory in autumn in New Mexico and the West.

But if there is a tree of the West, it is the low country cottonwood, a landmark of rugged bark, twisted branches and in many cases, giants centuries old, found anywhere there is water in the arid land.

And in fall, their golden color fills the valleys, contrasted brilliantly with the deep blue skies and distant purple mountains and mesas.

 Thus today's second watercolor. 

Back roads painting and poetry

"Mountains Ahead," New Mexico 104, 4 1/2 x 10 watercolor, 300 lb d'Arches cold press

 "Mountains Ahead! It's always great to see the mountains on the distant horizon when headed west.

This watercolor is in anticipation for poet Nathan Brown's Fire Pit Session, reading a poem I commissioned for one of his books during the pandemic, prompt being the "back Roads." We both love NM 104 from Tucumcari to Las Vegas, where the road stretches out forever . Here's his notice and photo, and mine of the same road a few years ago. 

You can catch him, and the poem, on Facebook at 6:15.

Mauve Morning

"Mauve Morning," 5 x 7, 140 lb d'Arches cold press paper

When you leave the New Mexico mountains, heading east into the Great Plains for the long drive to Oklahoma, it is best to start early.

Early as in before sun-up, but not before there is some light when the colors of dawn dominate  the horizon. Before that, deer on the road would mean disaster at 70 mph. 

But as the sky brightens, the multi-colored dawn makes the dramatic Southwestern landscape even more enchanted minute by minute, and there is almost no traffic for about 80 miles. 

In another hour, the sun will be up, and the land east of Raton, New Mexico,  will flatten and the trip becomes one of endurance, of the Texan Llano Estacado, of fields of crops and pastures, of almost constant wind and heavy truck traffic.

So it was recently for us, and I wish we would have stopped to take photos of the rugged volcanic landscape, wide open vistas,  and the sky, the sky. But we were hurrying home.

Today's little watercolor comes from my imagination and general impression of those magic moments--"When dawn spreads its paintbrush on the plains," in the words of the theme song of the old TV show, Wagon Train, quoted  in my blog title. (Incidentally, that photo  at the top of the blog was taken about the same time of day, east of Cimarron a few years ago).

This painting was a discovery for me, as was the drive that morning, trying to mix colors to get "mauve," the overriding colors of dawn. two earlier and largest attempts were unsuccessful

September Watercolors

 

As the pandemic deepens, moods do too, making art of any kind more important to survival.

But it also slows you down, and this September, I only managed 10 watercolors, three of them 5 x 7 birthday and greeting cards. Still though, there were 16 posts, the most since 2014 for the month, and third highest since 2009.

The best, and largest painting, was the Santuario de Chimayo in New Mexico, a commissioned piece. 

Viewing them again, they bring me peace and inspiration for this month. Enjoy and turn on the volume of this my fourth slide show of paintings since March 15. There is an overriding theme though, of an autumn journey. The last one is titled, "Alone."

Aspen to lift October spirits, and the muse

 

High Country October, 8 x 10 watercolor

Seven days into October, and this is the first blog post and watercolor, following months of consistent writing and watercolors during this pandemic.

I don't know why the muse departed, though the history of this blog shows few October posts every year but the year I started, 2009.

Being out of town the first four days contributed, but after September's splurge of 16 posts (the most since 2014 and third highest overall) and 10 watercolors, the gas tank must have been dry.

Only one watercolor has been completed so far, though there are three failures you'll never see.

Everybody tries to paint aspen, and I have before. This one inspired by a photograph on our Colorado trip as least got me started. And blogging again, hopefully more than the four each month for the past two years. 

Terrence Miller Clark, at work on a painting long ago

Aspen do that to you, and energize the muse. Here also is a photo of my Dad oil painting aspen long ago in New Mexico, which hangs in front of me as I type, and behind me when I paint.