Late frost, brisk winds and rain have left many trees bereft of their leaves.  In plain view now are hundreds of tiny pears on the ornamental pear tree in our front yard.  As a result of the frequent rainfalls, it grew by leaps and bounds this summer.  It grew so much, in fact, that a grey squirrel was able to leap from one of its branches onto the bird feeder last Saturday, sending the chickadees into a tizzie!! John and Lloyd moved the feeder closer to the living room window and out of his reach.  Before the feeder’s final position got a “thumbs up” signal, I went into the house and did a Goldilocks thing:

I sat on Lloyd’s spot on the sofa . . . . .

. . . . . and then I sat on mine!

Both of us must be able to easily view the feeder.  We often eat lunch on the sofa, and enjoy the company of the birds.  Lloyd was surprised to see some juncos yesterday.  They don’t usually stop by until late winter.

A warm, steady rain fell this afternoon.  Once when I looked out, a pair of plump, black squirrels were busy in the pear tree.  They feasted on the tiny pears . . . and washed them down with an unbottled beverage . . . rain.

They often put their ‘umbrellas’ up – large, fluffy tails – which covered their backs!

After combing through photos we took during our trip out West a few summers ago, I settled upon the next painting.   I’ll feature its sketch when that is done . . . and then the development of the painting on the blog as things progress over the coming weeks.  What will it feature?  From which province?  You’ll have to check back.

In between doing the week’s laundry this Saturday, I spent the day in the studio beneath the skylight.

During the past few days, we have been bantering titles about, and finally settled on Rambling River Song.  Listen, and see if you can hear the river gurgling bravely along in spite of the encroaching ice.

I thought the painting was done before noon, and placed it on an easel across from us in the living room where Lloyd and I could critique it while enjoying a sandwich in our lazyboys.  Lloyd didn’t like the looks of the rocks showing through the snow toward the bottom of the arch on the left.

“Kind of looks like a salamander, doesn’t it?” I said, amused, and was soon headed back into the studio to wipe it out.

If you go back to the previous blogs, you will note quite a change took place this week below the arch.  John brought it to my attention that he was having trouble with that area.

“Maybe I’m just not seeing it right,” he graciously remarked.

Oh, oh.  I knew that meant I had to go back and review the  reference material.  Foolishly, I liked what I saw in another photo, and got the perspective all out of whack by painting that into this!  “Thanks, John!  I pulled the river out of the sky.”

The inspiration for Rambling River Song came from the old stone arch above Blair Creek not more than five minutes from our home.  I photographed it several times in both summer and winter.  May this simple arch from yesteryear give you pleasure . . . and peace.

Red dogwood now brightens the left foreground.  Snow-bonnetted teasels bend on their tawny stems.  (Shadows will be added later after the snow has dried.  Whoever heard of snow drying?)

Milder temperatures have freed up some of the river, but not all, as it burrows beneath its icy coverlet.

I’m looking forward to painting the snow-daubed brush on the right knoll and bank in the  coming week.

Does the fluffy snow almost make you feel like sticking out your tongue . . . waiting for a snowflake or two to fall on it?  Only those who have lived in or visited colder climes could possibly feel this way.

Good news from a far country !  Addo’s Bookstore on Bonaire in the Caribbean Netherlands emailed me proofs of Colour the ABCs this week, a colouring book which I created about the tiny island.  It is being printed in Holland, and should be available in his store in another month.  Hopefully, tourists will pick it up, bringing tons of fun to little people in North America and Europe as they colour iguanas, goats and flamingos, and  learn about the unique semi-desert island off the north coast of Venezuela, South America . . . the island I never heard about in school.  Did you?   Its captions are in four languages:  Papiamentu, Dutch, English, Spanish.  The queen angel fish on the cover, John’s favourite fish on the reef, glides gracefully above the coral, wearing her jewelled crown.

Let’s head downstairs and see what Lloyd has been up to.

He has removed one section of the mother mould, revealing the rubber mould it supports.

It was a nerve-wracking procedure to cut the rubber mould open without marring the plasticene original inside!

This is the stand Lloyd built to support the mother mould, which securely cradles the rubber mould inside of it.  Lloyd is ready to cast the first reproduction of “Forty Winks.”

As you saw in the last blog, layers of liquid rubber were applied in alternating colours of blue and white so Lloyd could tell where he left off when brushing on each new layer.  After the last coat of liquid rubber, he left it to cure overnight.

Now it was time to study its contours carefully in order to determine the location of the sections of the supporting mother mould that must be made.  Each piece would be a solid, unbending plaster cast about half an inch thick which must be able to be removed without locking in the rubber mould beneath. Lloyd marked lines on the rubber, to delineate the boundaries of the three mother mould sections.

Lloyd prepares the final third section of the mother mould, inserting fibreglass strips to provide additional strength.

The completed mother mould is left to dry.  The third section is at the back.

Meanwhile, up in the studio, the three sticks on the right side of the arch have donned their robes of fragrant cedar, ornamented with sticky snow.

Wild redwood bushes and weeds will soon appear in the left foreground.  The river has only been washed in, but will have to wait for more attention until after the redwood has arrived.  Snow-laden brush will sprout on the right, gloried here and there by sunbeams.  Please don’t shiver . . . but mix up a cup of hot chocolate instead, and dream of sleigh bells in the snow.