Painting in Progress Phase 2

This is phase two of a painting I'm working on. The first phase didn't have any of the white in it. I'll keep posting as I complete this painting. This has been a very enjoyable piece for me to create.

Monument Valley

I have been painting Lickity Split's windows for a few years now. I change it with the seasons and so forth. This is the painting I did which will stay on the window until October when I change it for Halloween.

Forbidden Secrets

Forbidden secrets if told can unleash a powerful force, by which all peace one may have tried to retain, can be undone in a fraction of a second, leaving behind nothing but burnt bridges with only the ashes turning to dust. It shouldn't be that way, it's unfair and unruly in this darkened world of which some never win or lose. Some life experiences may not be so tough to swallow, yet for others it's an internal hell as one witnesses deceit, cover ups, and lies to protect the innocent involved with the guilty. If only the one's who's lives have been spared by love and nurturing, could only see the blessing that has been bestowed upon them. If only they understood why some are so different then they are. The difference is love. Love may seem to be a word taken highly for granted, but to one who didn't grow up with that, yet in the same domain had to watch it given to those closest to them, it becomes a painful word, a longing word, and a word which causes disbelief or unsparing resentment toward the innocent, yet all the while the unloved is innocent as well, but forced to live in a world where they have to hide in the cracks to protect those they love -who are the innocent involved with the guilty - from their hurt and hatred for what has happened to them.
The story is written between the lines never to be exposed in fear of the dreadful day that if anyone was to know the truth, although innocent, would be turned on them. It's a lonely place - this world of knowing in silence the truth of things you want yell out to the world. Yet there in the darkness lies a hurt child within, a tormented adult trying to live as normal as possible without revealing and unraveling the loved one's rose scented world. Yet the loved one is their hell caused by the guilty and evil perpetrator. An impossible situation.

The Escape

My cousin Robi is what I called her. We were very close and I always looked forward to going to Beaver where I would get to see her at Grandma and Grandpa Low's house. As I ponder on how close we were it seams a shame that as we get older we are too busy to keep in touch and lose track of each others life. But there was a time when nothing could keep us apart except the miles of living in different towns.
It was the morning of our last day of visiting. I looked down from the top bunk to the bottom bunk in the cozy bedroom, at Grandma's house, with the red curtains hanging from the window that over looked the white fence which separated the house from the horse corral.
There was a feeling of regret as Robi and I made the beds and got dressed to join the family at the table for breakfast. We asked Grandma if we could have a cup of coffee too, like we always did. As usual Grandma would tell us we could have only a little bit with milk because we were too young to drink very much coffee. We added sugar to make it taste better too.
After we finished our cold cereal and toast with Grandma's home made strawberry jam - which was the best in the world - the dread of leaving seemed to overwhelm me.
Suddenly it hit me that there was absolutely and positively no reason I should have to go back to Salt Lake with out Robi. So I devised a plan and shared it with her.
Meanwhile my parents began getting suitcases together. I anxiously told my mom that I would pack the back of the Volkswagen for her. Surprised by my anticipation she agreed to let me but warned that I must pack it good. I assured her I would.
I explained to Robi how she could go to Salt Lake with me but she needed to be very careful so our plan would work. So, she followed me outside and to the car where I had already put the suitcases in. I told her to get on top of the suitcases after which I covered her up with the blankets and pillows.
We were ready to go. We all gave Grandpa and Grandma a kiss goodbye - I always hated saying good bye except this particular day. I wasn't as sad about leaving as usual because my best buddy was coming with me. We got in the car and as we drove away we waved to Grandpa and Grandma until we couldn't see them anymore, about a block away, as we always did. My excitement was overwhelming and hard to contain, but I knew I must in order to make it out of town. So far so good.
We got on to the freeway and Robi made a noise, I quickly tried to make it as if I had done it, as my parents looked back. Further and further toward Salt Lake we drove but I knew we needed to get pretty far, in order for Robi to continue the trip home with me, before I revealed my secret to my parents. We were almost to Fillmore when I realized that Robi was getting to hot to stay under the covers much longer. "Yes," I determined that we had gone far enough that she would have no choice but to continue the trip home with us.
It's a weird feeling when you know you have to say something and every time you try to speak nothing comes out. A little bit of fear of what would happen to me if I told began to sink in. Telling my parents was a must as Robi's head began to continually poke up out of the blankets with a desperate look in her eyes. The time had come but my voice wouldn't
come out of my mouth, "what if they don't let her stay?" I really wanted to take her home. "What if I get into trouble?" Too late to think about that now.
Finally, Robi got impatient with me, if my memory serves me correctly, and quickly flew out from under the blankets. I will never forget the look on my parents face. I knew we were really in trouble. I don't recall exactly what was said but my plan did not work at all, it fell apart and crushed my spirit. We had to drive all the way back to Beaver to take Robi back. With my child like understanding of things I simply could not figure out their logic. I thought it would be easier to finish the trip home and someone could come get her in a week or two. Needles to say, Robi was in so much trouble and she got a whipping over that brilliant idea of mine. Talk about feeling horrible.
My creative thinking was stunted because the grown ups just didn't understand. They warned me against thinking with a strategy mind and standing up to what I wanted, therefore I never dared do anything like that again.

Hay Hauling

I was a tomboy growing up - climbing trees, hanging out with boys more than girls at one particular time in my life, shooting guns, and so forth. I will never forget how badly I wanted to drive truck for the guys who hauled hay for Don Brown.
Dad insisted that being out on the hay field with a bunch of guys was no place for a young lady. I begged and I pleaded with Dad to please let me drive for the boys, promising to be on my best behavior and closing my ears if I needed to. Back in those days it was not common at all for a guy to use fowl language in front of a lady and if they did they quickly apologized. Now days, however, girls mouths are just as bad, but it was a whole different story back then. Dad was concerned with good reason.
Finally after many tears and arguing, Dad made a deal with me. We lived on a piece of land that had a barn, which we had torn down, and pigs which we had gotten rid of. The pieces of the barn were scattered on the ground on and around a slab of cement. There was old fencing scattered out on the ground leaving a complete disaster in the yard. There were weeds all over - that needed pulled - just tons of hard work to get it cleaned up. "Get all this mess cleaned up by sundown tomorrow night and you can drive for the hay haulers." Dad was very stern telling me that it had to be done by sundown or it didn't count at all.
It was 5:30 in the morning when I heard the rooster crow. I jumped out of bed and put on my grubby cloths. I ran outside and started working. Pulling weeds, making neat piles with the boards from the barn, and stopping from time to time to get a drink. Dragging the fencing - even having to dig some of it up. Sweating and working a job that was not easy for a 15 year old girl.
It may be hard to picture all the hard work which lay before me. But imagine all the boards from a barn - how many boards there were - Imagine a cement slab which I had to break up as much as I could. All the weeds that had to be pulled. Sweating and hungry, I didn't stop but long enough to eat a sandwich at lunch time, then back to work again. The clock was ticking and the sun was sinking as the evening shadows fell upon me.
The cement slab was my greatest challenge. Up until now I had done everything myself. But how in the world was I going to get the rest of this large slab of cement moved off the land?
It was then that I heard the sound of one of Don Browns tractors. It was Clark Hawkins coming to my rescue. He loaded that large slab of cement and hauled it off to the old Dairy. I was done, mission accomplished and it was just getting dark.
I ran into the house exhausted and ready to drop like a rolled biscuit. I yelled to Dad to come see my accomplishment. He reluctantly went outside and before his eyes he saw a miracle. The job was very well done, better than he had expected. He looked for a moment and said, "you cheated, you can't have anyone help you." I thought for a moment and I told Dad that there was no place in the rules that said I couldn't have someone haul the cement off, and I had done everything else myself.
Choking and groaning my Dad knew I had whipped him. I had accomplished something he didn't think I'd ever accomplish - and in the amount of time given on top of that.
I'll never forget hearing Dad tell Mom not to ever believe me if I said I couldn't do something, then with regret he agreed to let me drive truck for the hay haulers.
I hope Dad realized that I was thankful for that experience. It wasn't so bad, the guys treated me well, and I'll never forget how yummy the frozen peach ice cream on a stick was that I had everyday after work. I remember after work bottle feeding the calf's as well and watching Don Brown milk the cows. Good memories it was of a great summer.

That Darn jack ass

Those days were carefree and innocent, unaware of political issues, unaware of the strains of adult life, and living each day to its fullest. The only things I had to worry about was getting my chores done and deciding who to hang out with that day. I was the one in the crowd who everyone loved to make fun of - I suppose the story I'm about to tell is one of those reasons. If something was going to happen to someone that would get everyone laughing and talking, it was me.

The day was bright and sunny and the aroma of mulberry jam that my mom was making filled the house, as I anxiously stepped out the door. I ran under the mulberry tree turning the bottom of my feet purple with out a care, across the lawn, and on to the street, running to Toni Brook's house. Toni and I were called the Bopsy twins, although we were complete opposites, because we did everything together. Where she went I went, where I went she went - that sort of thing. As we talked about our daily plans we noticed the blond hair long legged boy across the street. Clark was his name. He was heading to Bret Lyman's house to ride Bret's Shetland Pony. He asked us if we wanted to come along. Of course we were the type to never let any adventure slip by us, so we agreed to go.

By the time we got to Bret's house which was only three blocks away, Bret was riding the stubborn mule in his back yard. I noticed right away that this pony was not going to be a picnic to ride - it headed into the barn where we spent many hours jumping off the hay stacks. It's a wonder no one ever got hurt.

My mind went back for a moment remembering my last experience on a Shetland Pony. My uncle Legrand, who lived in Plain City, had a pony and I was not aware of their temperament. I took off on the pony one day thinking it would be like riding a horse. Instead I had a crash course of learning that these animals have a mind of their own. I had ridden that darn thing only a block and a half from home, when suddenly it turned around so quickly I lost my balance nearly falling off. He took off in a dead run while I was hanging on for dear life to its mane. Not using a saddle I used every muscle in my legs to keep from falling off. Around the corner he flew and homeward bound he knew exactly where he was going. You can only imagine the sight when he jumped over the little white pecked fence, through the narrow gate, and into an even narrower door, that went into the barn. My uncle was chasing after me yelling something, I couldn't understand him, all I knew was my legs were bleeding and scratched up pretty bad and I had hit my head as the pony made a tight turn when we went into the barn.

So now, here I was again with my friends trying to talk me into getting on the pony. I explained to them that I didn't think I should get on him. They just acted as if I hadn't said much as all four of us headed back to the fields across the street from Toni's house, Bret riding the pony while the rest of us walked. There are houses, where the huge field used to be, and there was one little house across from Clark's house and a cloths line where a road exists now.

Everyone started taking a turn driving the pony - that was Toni's way of saying riding. I was perfectly happy watching them as they rode the pony across the field and back. Finally the moment came that I hoped I could avoid. "It's your turn Jeri," The words flung into my head as I tried to pretend I was just hearing things. But it wasn't my imagination, it was all too real, and the persuasion was much too powerful for my timid personality. How could I let them know that I was scared anyway. So Bret helped me onto the pony on the street next to Clark's house. Off we went and that pony was running fast. While the pony was running all I could do was hold on as I looked up and saw that the pony was heading straight for the cloths line which was level to my neck. I tried to turn him but he wouldn't turn, I pulled on the reigns but he wouldn't stop. As we approached the cloths line I knew I better do something fast so I ducked just in the nick of time, and hung on for dear life to his mane. De Ja Vu hit me like a ton of bricks as Bret and Clark started chasing after me to try and get the pony stopped. Everyone was yelling something at me but I couldn't tell what they were saying, when finally that darn animal decided to stop. The only injuries were my wobbling legs and hurt pride that I simply did not know how to control that darned jack ass. From that day to the present I call pony's "jack asses" with out a capital.

Dear Grandpa

I wrote this poem after my Grandpa Low passed away. I also had music written for it and sang it at his funeral with all the grandchildren. My grandpa was an awesome man. He would tell us stories about Great Grandpa Allred going after the Indian horse thief. My cousin Robi and I used to do performances on the big hearth in their house. Everyone would come in the living room and and watch us do our performances, and I'll never forget the look on Grandpa's face as we sang. Grandma had the same smiley look on her face too.

Dear Grandpa

As I walk through this existence
I'll recall the memories of you life
A smile will appear on my face
For time will not erase
Those memories
I hold deep in my heart.
As I recall those old stories
You would tell when I was young
And the songs we would sing
Made your face beam
Those memories
I hold deep in my heart.
And I know that where you are
Really isn't very far
I'm sure we'll talk again someday
We'll reminisce of the good times
We have missed
From a world of yesterday.