The San Juan County Hillbilly's

I know that many people have seen the TV series, Beverly Hillbilly's. How many of you have heard the story about the San Juan County Hillbilly's? I'm here to tell ya it's a true story. It could either be a comical story, or a story one might shove their nose in the air, roll their eye's and say, "Oh my gosh, now isn't that just so lame, like my gosh, who would do such a thing other then "Them." The them meaning me, my mom, my brother and sister, dad, and that orange jeep willies truck.
I'll never forget the day dad came home saying he was buying a jeep. Wow! Now that would be so cool I thought, as I pictured one of the in style jeeps of the times with the top off and me cruzin in it and going out in the hills with dad. Yes, indeed, I was so excited, I was excited until that day - the day dad drove up in the yard in it. I about died. I didn't know that a Willies Jeep was a pick up, an old pickup, and it was ORANGE. Oh my gosh, was I ever let down. Being a teen, being cool and in style was so important. After a few days I guessed I could live with that orange thing. I guess I wasn't aware that a Willies Jeep was a collectors item, an antique, way cool to dad for sure.
All was fine during the adjustment period of my dismay until - until the day dad came in the door of the house smiling. He was so proud of himself once again. He had come up with a solution for the truck not being big enough for us all. All of us being myself, mom, Brian,Jessi, and dad. We simply needed more room. Dad had found an old theater seat to put in the back of the Willies Jeep.
He wouldn't! He couldn't! Enough humiliation, please NO dad No! He didn't hear my cries. The next thing I knew dad was bolting that seat in it's place, in the back of the truck. Now imagine if you can my mom, my sister, and brother riding in the back of that jeep, sitting on the theater seat all dressed up in their nice Sunday cloths, riding to church. Oh my gosh. Notice I didn't mention myself? It's because I always denied ever riding in the back of that truck, and worse, sitting on the theater seat like the hillbilly's on TV. At least they had money so people would kiss up to them and like them no matter how different they were. They were famous, but us, we were just the Low's and I mean low to all my friends. I guess we just needed the money to help the situation.
I'm almost 50 years old now. Now, I would probably get in the back of that truck and just stick my tongue out at anyone who wanted to point fingers and put us down. I'd do it now just for the sake of dad, and how proud he was of making the best of the situation - or just wanting to be different- or just seeing what kind of reaction he could get. What ever the purpose was, that old Orange Willies Jeep has many memories.
Our mother has fond memories of driving that old thing to Monticello to give birth to my sister. In labor she drove that bouncy hard to shift truck 21 miles. What a tough women. She never complained - too much anyway.
We hauled many loads of wood in that truck, it was a good working truck for sure. As I remember all the things about that truck I have to cry, laugh, roll my eyes, smile, and think to myself the lessons that truck taught me. A mouth full for a truck eh. Maybe now, if someday when you're driving down the road and you see a jeep willies truck, you'll remember this story.
If it's orange and has an old theater seat in it, please let me know so I can blow it up:) Just kidding!

Final Painting of an Old Car

It took several sessions for me to get this car done. The photo I used wasn't easy to see, but I guess it worked out in the long run. :)

Final Painting ... I Hope

I think I'm done with the portrait of Kylie. Somtimes I will see things and go back into them but this is pretty much it. My first Portrait.

Phase 3 of Kylie

Final Painting finished phase

A True Christmas Story

November Sunsets

As I gaze upon the deep red sunset in the November sky,
a cluster of twinkling lights and rushing wind carries
me away to the familiar scents, sounds, and visions of Christmas memories.
I was blessed to be born to - two of the most wonderful people on
Earth, Mr. and Mrs. Clause. At times it could be a rather difficult task
keeping up with all the demands of being an elf and taking lessons from
Santa and Mrs. Clause. They taught me many lessons about making life as fun as possible, how to create things with my hands, and how to show love, touched with a little magic, to the lives of those around me.

They made all occasions as happy as possible be creating the spirit of magic and love into our humble cottage. I recall when other elves came to play with me. They would sit around Santa and wait patiently. They knew if they sat long enough he would tell them cool stories. Then, finally, Santa made his belly shake while he blew smoke rings out of his pipe. The elves and I watched the smoke rings as they danced around the top of Santa's head. The sound of laughter filled the room as we sat at his feet watching with content.

The elves
and Santa worked very hard making toys and other accessories for all the boys and girls around the world. Christmas music played while we hammered, nailed, and glued. Mrs. Clause worked very hard too, sewing and baking for all of those she loved around the world, which was everyone. I can still smell the scent of cookies and bunt cakes drifting throughout the village of the North Pole.
The heat from the oven added warmth into the evening sky creating a dark-red sunset, which added to the magical spirit of the Christmas season.

Before Santa would leave on his long journey around the world, every Christmas Eve, I could hear the jingling bells and the stomping of his feet on the roof top. My heart raced with excitement. I felt a burning in my toes, elves do that you know, as I heard Santa yell out to the reign deer like the stories go. I knew he was pulling on the reigns when I head the prancing of hoofs. Then off they flew into the dark night.

I would lie in my bed listening to the bells as they jingled. The sound echoed through the North Pole until, finally, I couldn't hear them anymore.

Now, although it's quite sad, some may believe my story isn't true. They mights think it's a Fairy Tale or a dream. Or, maybe some folks are like the Grinch and will eventually find the truth in their hearts. But I know it's true, I assure you. Just remember from now on, in November, when the sunset is painted with brush-strokes of deep red, it's the heat from the oven in the North Pole, where Mrs. Clause is baking cookies for all the elves who are busy, working hard, building Christmas gifts for all the children young and old, in all lands.

Little Aubrey

This is a sneak peak of ONE of the paintings and poems in my book that will be getting published called Stitches of Poetry.

Little Aubrey

From the milky way train she flew
Then landed on the ground.
Her gown a mess, she lost her shoe,
She sits without a sound.

The sun was winking at the site
As it hid behind the mountain top.
The evening star was shining bright,
While moon beam tickled her toes ticklish spot.

Be careful not to let her trick you
When she sits so quietly,
For when she finally finds her shoe,
She'll dance and sing delightfully.

Her wings will flutter as she flys
Above the honeysuckle.
Then little Aubrey sings a lullaby,
For little baby Tuckle.