I could say it is resting but it isnt. The painting is done. STUART RIVER KICKING LEAVES 24 x 36 inch oil on canvas This is another of my mystery paintings in that its realism is mostly a deception. I have included two detail images so you can bet a better idea about what is going on. Truthfully though it is the layering all the way back to the yellow ground that gives this painting its vitality. I suppose it may appear to be a pretty picture but it isnt to me. Winters are historically harsh in this area. Snow is not far off and a day of kicking leaves means there is a good stockpile of winter wood. The larder is full and the winter vegetables put down. If this was when I was young it would soon be time to dress in layers knowing I would still be cold and take my 22 rife into my grandfathers boat along with our little dog Charlie Brown. You see, my grandfather was a trapper. I was his sharpshooter for muskrats. If they were plentiful, we would take a few this way rather than trapping them. I had to line up a bead on the head of the small animal right at the waterline in the moving riverboat. As soon as I shot and gave the nod, the small dog would jump overboard and bring the dead muskrat back to us before it sank. My aim had to be good because if it wasnt the little dog could get pulled under by the diving animal and drown. This risk was partly due to the fact that Charlie wouldnt let go and give up easily. This was his favourite job and he was a determined to do it well. I dont remember what the muskrat hides were worth a piece once they were skinned, the hides stretched and then shipped to the fur buyers. I do know that my grandfather never really had a regular job for wages very often and trapping and guiding were the family livelihood. This cash bought necessities like flour, sugar, salt, boat motors, pickup trucks, snowmobiles, canned peaches, raisins, honey, nuts, rice, lamp gas and mantels, ammunition, maybe a new axe if it was needed or a skinning knife. Oh the shopping list could also include material to make work shirts, or brassieres or maybe even a blouse or new sheets. But you get the idea. So kicking leaves was and is a luxury between the tasks necessary to survive another winter. Yes it is pretty with the last heat of the sun on your back and cool northern breeze on your face. But I can hear my father say - the leaves are not real pretty yet. Next week they will be better. Mom will leave a hint of a smile between her should shrug, squint slightly as if seeing a moose or bear across the water. I will look just in case she has. Then we will all turn and continue back towards the house appearing to be in no hurry but already mentally deciding what needs to be done next.
Posted on: Wed, 26 Nov 2014 21:45:56 +0000
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