Nature Delight
Woken up long before dawn, compelled to eat breakfast, and herded with my seven brothers and sisters into our 1953 Cadillac. Off we’d go across the country on vacation. We’d have several hundred miles behind us before we stopped for second breakfast: piles of pancakes with sticky syrup.
We’d go to national parks: Sequoias. Yosemite. Zion. Grand Canyon. . .
Plunked down with nature all around us, leaving Los Angeles far behind. Mountains and hills covered with trees and bushes and flowers. Blue skies. Puffy clouds. Fireflies. Easy-to-breathe air. Rangers who told us about constellations, the Milky Way, Orion’s belt, shooting stars. Singing corny songs around a campfire.
My dad very present, away from his routine concerns, making silly jokes, looking for opportunities for laughter. Together in this other world.
It does a soul good.
Woken up long before dawn, compelled to eat breakfast, and herded with my seven brothers and sisters into our 1953 Cadillac. Off we’d go across the country on vacation. We’d have several hundred miles behind us before we stopped for second breakfast: piles of pancakes with sticky syrup.
We’d go to national parks: Sequoias. Yosemite. Zion. Grand Canyon. . .
Plunked down with nature all around us, leaving Los Angeles far behind. Mountains and hills covered with trees and bushes and flowers. Blue skies. Puffy clouds. Fireflies. Easy-to-breathe air. Rangers who told us about constellations, the Milky Way, Orion’s belt, shooting stars. Singing corny songs around a campfire.
My dad very present, away from his routine concerns, making silly jokes, looking for opportunities for laughter. Together in this other world.
It does a soul good.
Woken up long before dawn, compelled to eat breakfast, and herded with my seven brothers and sisters into our 1953 Cadillac. Off we’d go across the country on vacation. We’d have several hundred miles behind us before we stopped for second breakfast: piles of pancakes with sticky syrup.
We’d go to national parks: Sequoias. Yosemite. Zion. Grand Canyon. . .
Plunked down with nature all around us, leaving Los Angeles far behind. Mountains and hills covered with trees and bushes and flowers. Blue skies. Puffy clouds. Fireflies. Easy-to-breathe air. Rangers who told us about constellations, the Milky Way, Orion’s belt, shooting stars. Singing corny songs around a campfire.
My dad very present, away from his routine concerns, making silly jokes, looking for opportunities for laughter. Together in this other world.
It does a soul good.
Gouache and oil pastel on watercolor paper, 11 x 15”. Framed size, 17 x 21 x 1 1/2”.