I welcome some suggestions for how we can get these things going here, or where we might go to paint and draw.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
7th World Wide Paint Out Sept. 11, 12, 13, 2009
I welcome some suggestions for how we can get these things going here, or where we might go to paint and draw.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Robertson County Bluebonnets
Friday, March 20, 2009
Plein Aire Painting Workshop in Calvert IX




Friday, March 13, 2009
Plein Aire Painting Workshop in Calvert V
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Plein Aire Painting Workshop in Calvert IV
Monday, March 2, 2009
Happy Texas Independence Day
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Foxes and The Tree
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Saturday Secrets
Virginia Field Park Calvert, Texas
Saturday morning. A quick breakfast of Rice Krispies, a banana, and fresh squeezed orange juice, or, my favorite, Pablum. Maybe toast, biscuits, bacon, eggs, ham, french toast, doughnuts, or whatever Mama fixed that day. Playing with the cats for a little while, arranging my dolls on my bed, dressing in girls bluejeans or shorts, then draping myself over the chair with the nailheads around the edges, to listen to "Buster Brown", "Jack Armstrong" and "Sky King" on the radio.
I rolled my bike that Daddy had bought from Jane, and I painted with a 10 cent can of enamel from Fink's Variety Store, out from the garage out back and into the front yard. "I'm going to the library," I shouted over my shoulder as I rolled the bike down the little hill in our front yard to the street. I rode around the streets outside the park to avoid the sand in the road inside the park, and on to the little library that had once been a club house for women. It was just like it had always been, from my grandmother's day.
I looked through the books for what seemed like hours and picked out a stack of books to take home for the week. I probably would never read all those books, but I had good intentions. During the school year, I also had all those books from school, plus those I checked out of the school library, and books that I had of my own to read.
I loaded my books into the basket of my bike and thought of how I would curl up in a chair, in front of the stove in the living room, in winter, or by a window in hot weather and read so many books. And I would also buy some comic books and movie magazines from the drugstore to read. And, I would spread out on the floor to read the funny papers from the newspaper and magazines. A lot of reading, but I think I did more dreaming than actual reading.
I rode up the gentle hill toward home. I pedaled my bike up the street, avoiding gravel on the side, and between the two large white rocks at the entrance to the park. I pushed my bike over the hard walk up to the old fashioned bandstand and leaned it against the steps while I walked over to the birdbath/drinking fountain for a cold drink of water. I never was sure it it was a birdbath, although that's what it looked like to me. I guess we humans had to share it with the birds! It did have steps on the sides for short people to stand on, and a couple of metal drinking faucets, so it would seem to be for people to drink from. But it was concrete and curved to hold water, which would have served the birds, too.
I looked into the large structure to see if anybody was there to talk to and play with, yet. No one was there, so I got on my bike and pedaled out the east side over the walk, past the clay tennis court and the huge glider swing. I walked my bike carefully as I crossed the drive way that surrounded the park. Spots of sand made walking difficult and could turn a car that was going too fast, completely around.
I passed Edie's house and the empty lots between us, and pushed the bike up the hill to my house, and left the bike on the small front porch. With my books parked safely on top of the chest of drawers, I still had a long time before dinner when Daddy would come home from the store to eat. I could have read one of those books, I guess, but, no. This was Saturday. No school! Time for friends, relaxing, and a good shoot-em-up at the Eloia followed by a trip to Taliaferro's Drug Store for an ice cream cone or Coke and reading the latest movie magazines and funny books.
Mama was busy in the kitchen, and I walked back over to the park. This was a good place to be with friends. Not so much fun, alone. It was kind of big, spooky, and overwhelming, for a kid alone. No telling what might be there. A spider, a snake, a monster or a ghost! Not to mention those weird horney toads and the big red ants that had some good sized beds in certain places in the park. We never thought that there could be anyone lurking in the park who might harm us.
"Are you going to the show this afternoon?" I met a friend from school inside the bandstand. Light reflected off the blue gray floor as I sat down on a bench beside her.
"I don't know. Is anyone else going?" She asked.
"Probably so, but I haven't talked to anyone. Do you know what's on?"
"I don't know. It's in the paper that they send out at the post office."
"Yeah, I know that. But I just wondered."
" Think there'll be any cute boys there? Or will it just be the dumb old boys from school?"
" You know that all the cute boys are somewhere else!" I laughed.
"Let's save our money and go on the bus to the Chatmas, and to Waco!"
"Okay. Think we can go?" I asked, thinking of our shopping trips to other places, but always with adults.
"Sure! I do it all the time!"
It was hard to believe, but other kids, all of whom were older than I was, did take the bus and go to Hearne or Bryan or Waco, to shop, eat, and go to a movie.
"Well, I have to go home and wash my hair before I can go to the show," I said. "And Daddy is going to be home for dinner soon."
"I've got to wash my hair, too." She walked to the edge of the wooden floor and down the steps. "I'll see you later at the show. I don't think that Tim Holt is on today. It may even be Tarzan, or the Three Stooges. Or, I think I saw that they are going to have Whip Wilson one Saturday."
We both doubled up with laughter. "Whip Wilson!" (That's what we called one of our algebra teachers/coaches. He seemed to be quick on the draw with his paddle for misbehaving kids. )
"Just so it isn't Victor Mature. Kathryn said he looks like someone just threw a bucket of slop in his face, and he does!"
Daddy's little coupe chugged and clattered past the park and I ran home to eat dinner.
The park was a nice place to spend time with friends. The bandstand, with its sturdy enameled floor. was a good place to get out of the sun or weather, away from the eyes of grownups, where secrets, hopes, and dreams could be shared. Towering Crepe Myrtles all around the sides of the park and beds filled with flowers, assured some privacy from passing cars, as well as neighbors. A basketball hoop on one of the posts provided a place for the boys to practice before we had a gym, or for the kids to come and try their skill at playing basketball, if they could find a basketball. The floor made a good roller rink and a place to settle in and play games like jacks. Benches provided a place for an audience where we could practice acting, singing, and dancing, or they might become seats in an airplane, a boat, a train, or whatever object we could imagine. The sides of the bandstand made a good place to hide from pirates or the bad guys while we played with our toy guns. Some were even brave enough to venture a little way under the bandstand to play house, complete with mudpies.
Last weekend was another Saturday, many years later. My sister and I descended on the park, not with our cap pistols or toy dishes, or jacks, or bikes, but with folding chairs, sketchbooks, and pens and pencils, and a cold drink. She picked a spot in the bandstand overlooking the west entrance, while I went to the opposite side, picked a bench to settle on , and looked out toward the school and our old neighborhood, the merry-go-round, and one of the two remaining small pavillions on the norhtheast corner.
After beginning our day with a kolache and a visit with Jody at Zamykal Kolaches, we spent the morning in the park, sketching the place where we spent a lot of time playing, when we were growing up. It was a hot day, but the bandstand provided us with a lot of shade, and there was a little breeze to cool us off.
I worked in pencil on a watercolor pad, while my sister used her sketchbook and a pen. I had thoughts of, at some time, painting my drawing later. I also chose to take some photos of where we were working. All the while, I was thinking of the things that we used to do in the park, and how it is still so much the same. A real comfort as so many people love that park, and have over the years. Our great-grandfather came over from Prussia the year before the park and the town became official.
I thought of the friends we knew and the events that took place in the park and I missed the cold water in the fountain, the great Crepe Myrtles around the park, the baseball field where almost nightly summer ball games were held, (and, in between, we brought out our bats and balls and had games of our own), the children's swings, the big white glider and the bench made from a plank that had been placed between two oak trees, years ago, the clay tennis court, the road around the park, and my sister noticed that even the concrete ping pong table is gone. It's still a nice place with so much potential.
As we sketched, two young girls came into the bandstand to exercise and enjoy each other's company. They laughed, giggled, and talked softly, ran up and down the steps a few times, then drank bottled water. (I thought how handy the drinking fountain would have been for them! After all, people come from cities just to drink some of that good Calvert water!) They sat on the benches, talking softly and I thought of young girls sharing their time and their secrets, over many years, there in the park. Eventually, they asked if I was through sketching the merry-go-round, and, when I told them I was, they wandered over to the playground area where they took a few spins around on the merry-go-round. Returning to the bandstand, they sat on benches opposite each other, to talk.
"Aha! There's some pictures!" I thought. Kids talking on a Saturday in the park, playing on the merry-go-round, and the way that it used to be. Saturdays used to seem so long and we did so much, with no rush. I placed the girls in my sketch, looking at them, but used the photo above to finish the placement of things like posts and dividers. I added in the baseball field, concession stand, and the little road around the park in the background. I thought of styles of the past and gave my girls pigtails and a pony tail.
I couldn't help but wonder what they were talking about. Was it anything like the conversations that we had? How much have the thoughts and feelings of the young girls changed from my grandmother's day to now?
I do suspect that they were not talking about going to the Saturday afternoon picture show at the Eloia, since it is not operatong. And I do know that it was refreshing to see such nice, respectful young ladies. I don't know who they are, but it gave me a little scarey thought for a story. They walked away toward the cemetery across the street. Now there's an idea for a story. I think I have watched ghost programs with my daughter, too much!
I have more pictures that I took during our last Saturday sketch crawl to share, and some more sketches that I have been doing.
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Speaking of Calvert, they are looking forward to the big Victorian Tea and Gala with a Street Fair Octobler 4. Jody Powers told me that they are still looking for vendors for the street fair. They have a lot of things lined up, but they need more vendors. So, if you like to sell your wares that can be considered Victorian , look at their website for more information, or contact Jody at Zamykal Kolache Shop in Calvert. If you make aprons, quilts, make jewelry, paint, demonstrate how to do something, have a civic group that would like to participate, or whatever it is that you do, get in touch with her. I have a link to her shop in my sidebar, or, you could just call her. There is also an online application. I do believe that they want everyone to dress in Victorian attire. It isn't require of people attending, but it is encouraged, if you would like to dress up.
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Did you see "On The Road" on KBTX tv Thursday? If not, you can go to their website and take a look at the video. They reported on the news from Robertson County as part of their "On The Road" weekly series. They had to pack up early, though, because rain with thunder and lightning were coming. It was an interesting segment.
If you missed it, you can go to the KBTX website and, on the right, there is a place to click to see "On The Road" for the previous weeks. The segment on Robertson County, included quite a bit about Calvert. They don't have the whole program online, but do show Hammond House, Jody in costume showing fan ettiquette, and taught one of the anchors how to waltz, the old Calvert Hotel, the cemetery, and some of the stores downtown. I wish they would have left in the part where Jody is in her shop, talking and singing.
One thing that was not correct was that children have never lived in the Calvert Hotel. The Dirr family, who originally owned the hotel, had children and grandchildren living there. I practically lived there, myself when my cousins were at their grandmother's hotel. That made such a great place to play!
Another thing that I noticed was that the front of the buildings on Main Street were actually the back, by the railroad. They did load freight from the trains through there and had entrances at the back, but the fronts were where they are now, on Main Street. I have pictures from the early days, and there are the Sanford Fire Insurance Maps. Main Street once had cisterns and water wells in the middle, but the street was very wide allowing big wagons with teams to turn around easily. There was also another track that ran behind the buildings on the west side of the street, and freight was loaded from there. When I was young, there were still tracks visible in the street where little spurs were built on the side streets to busy stores . There were also tracks by the Fagan house. I was told those were trolley tracks. Calvert had a trolley while Dallas and Ft. Worth were not much more than an Army outpost.
Calvert was said to have been almost wiped out by the Yellow Fever Epidemic. About half the population died and left a population of 2,5oo, which is what it was still, all the years that I was growing up. They could never know how many died exactly because people were being buried day and night. I'm sure that they missed where some people were actually buried. But, they did make sure to bury people with the fever at an angle so that no one would ever try to dig them up and release whatever caused the epidemic into the atmosphere to make more people sick. They didn't know what caused it. Even doctors died. There probably is some record from the City Cemetery of most of the people in that one cemetery. But, apparently, records were not kept for some other burial places.
My great-grandfather had a "Chinaman" working for him in his cobbler shop. The man was among those who died. None of my family caught it, though. What a scarey time that was!
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Tonight is the Scottish Invasion with events in Dallas Ft. Worth, and Houston, that I know of.
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We lost another of our schoolmates this week. Linda was the prettiest little girl, and the prettiest and sweetest lady when she grew up! She worked so hard in her chosen career and was devoted to her family. It was so nice to talk to her and to have her fix my hair. I know that she is going to be greatly missed.
Here is a sketch of an angel for Linda. I tried it in watercolors, but I'm not happy with it. Wrong kind of paper, I think. I'll have to try it again.


Saturday, December 1, 2007
Dream Tree

Dream Tree
8.5" x 11"
pencil
Late Friday afternoon. Fall. There was beginning to be a hint of crispness in the warm air. There was a sense of movement as people, and their transportation, moved around, getting ready for Friday night football games. A constant hum of motors could be heard in the streets and on the nearby highway.
Everyone had left early while I remained in my room, finishing up and getting things ready for the coming Monday. I walked down the sidewalk to the back of the brick buildings. I usually didn't park my car in back of the school, but I had been told not to park in front of the school unless I was unloading, but had not been given a certain place within a reasonable walking distance. In the rush of getting my car parked in time for my class to start, I decided to park in the back of the school, behind the library and gym, where coaches and the librarian usually parked. I wasn't supposed to park here, either, and it was too far from my room. But, today, I just stopped where ever I could find a place.
I had a stack of books in my arms, my purse hanging near my elbow, and my key ready to open the locked door. I pushed the dirt with my foot in the little driveway as I reached the parking area.
School was peaceful with everyone gone. Long shadows caught my attention as something I should take note of for some future art work. I could breathe deeply, knowing that some of the stress of the week was behind me. I didn't have to go to the game, but could go home, kick off my shoes, have supper with my family, watch tv, and wait for the scores on the news. My thoughts were on turning on the radio in the car and listening to a program of old country western music, that began with the Aggie Band playing "The Aggie War Hymn". I could turn that on really loud and feel a great surge of energy and joy for the drive home.
The car was a little warm as I touched the key to the lock, then pulled the handle to open the door. I threw the books into the back seat, put one foot in the car, grabbed the steering wheel to pull myself onto the soft leather seat. I loved being in my car, and driving. I even enjoyed the commute home each day. A time I could unwind, and just enjoy being by myself.
Before I could sit down, I realized that someone was behind me. A tall figure, dressed in a dark blue suit, wearing a dark western hat, and brown square toed cowboy boots. The man pulled himself into the back seat and pushed me into the drivers seat. He pushed the door closed so I couldn't get back out.
I was stunned. Who was this? What did he want? This was a safe place. These things didn't happen. I shouldn't have stayed at school so late.
"Drive!" The deep voice commanded. "And hurry up about it!"
"Listen here," my school teacher voice took over. "You aren't supposed to be here. And don't think of trying anything. There are lots of people around with the game and all going on!"
"Get this car going and drive!" He leaned forward and yelled beside my ear.
"Besides, I don't have any money," I argued. "I'm just a poor school teacher." I added, hoping for a little sympathy and relief.
"I don't want any money or anythig else. I need you to drive this car! Now!"
He moved his hand beside my face and opened a brown leather wallet with something silver in it. My eyes wouldn't focus, but I assumed that he was trying to show me a badge.
"Okay, okay, I'm going!" I looked in the rearview mirror as I pulled away from the drive.
"Say, aren't you that guy on tv?" I was surprised that my car-jacker might actually be a star, or maybe he was really some kind of policeman.
"You look just like that man on the soap opera, who used to be in the cowboy shows! Say, you aren't Phil Carey, are you? I was trying to think where I had seen him before. But, of course, this couldn't be him. I read that the star had been ill, was not on the soap opera anymore, and, besides, he would be in New York and not Texas, and the star was in his 80's,now.
"No, I'm not whoever you think I am. Get going over to the highway! I just need your car for a little while." He was pushing against the back of the seat as if to make the car move forward faster.
"Well, you sure look like him, to me! Sound like him, too." I drove past the chicken place and turned onto the east-west highway. I kept glancing in the mirror, not to look for traffic, but to look at this man who looked just like the star in his younger days. The voice was unmistakable, I thought.
"There they are!" He leaned over the back of the seat and hung his arm over the back while pointing ahead. "Those four guys, in that white car! Stay with that car. Don't let them get away!" he demanded.
"Look, I'm just an old lady school teacher, not a professional driver! If you want to drive yourself, that would be okay with me!" That sounded kind of like I was lecturing a student, after I said it.
"No time! Get after them! Don't let them lose you!"
"Why? Why are you doing this? And why am I having to drive for you? Don't you have a car of your own?" I asked. This seemed very strange. Why wasn't this man driving his car, or a police car, if that's what he was?
"Can't let them see that I'm following them. Just keep up with them. And don't let them out of your sight!"
The white car pulled in and out of lanes as they sped through the traffic going to the big games in the area. I didn't think they realized that I was trying to follow them as I stayed behind them. I had been driving these streets for many years, ever since I got my drivers license, so I knew them well. The men in the car were laughing and their car rocked with booming music.
"Why are you following them? I asked, not really caring if they got away in the traffic. I was ready to go home and quit this game.
The man leaned back as we approached the car. He took a phone from his jacket and called someone.
The white car turned north on Highway 6 and then onto 79, the highway that led to the county seat and on into the next state. They could be going anywhere.
"Listen, mister. I've got to get home. And this is not the way I go! I haven't been over here in a long time. I always go south. " I told him. "Besides, I don't have money to be buying gas, either!"
"Just drive! And shut up!" He went back to talking on the phone as we followed the curved overpass onto the highway that led east.
"Just do what he says. Just do what he says," I told myself over and over. "Don't act scared. Don't let him know you are scared. Try to follow that car."
I wished for a Highway Patrol car to pull that white speeding car over. But, with my luck, if one came along, they would stop me and give me a ticket! I tried to keep within the speed limit, but, at the same time, keep the white car in sight.
Things had changed some since the last time I had been here. Homes and stores that had been there all my life were either gone, or were abandoned to weeds and vines. Some buildings had fallen in and were now only piles of rubble. And, a few new places had been built. I didn't recognize some of the old places because their surroundings were changed.
As we approached the little town that was the county seat, the white car turned off the highway and onto a narrow street. The men in the back seat of the car looked back and laughed. Did they know that I was following them? Did they know that the man was in my car? Could they possibly think that they could lose themselves in this little town?
I slowed down as I turned onto the street.
"Where does this go?" the man asked in his deep, husky voice.
"Well, in this town, all streets either lead to the courthouse, or you can go on to another highway that leads north and west, if I remember correctly. I haven't been here in years, so I'm really not sure. It could have changed."
I looked for the white car, but it had either pulled into a driveway and behind a house, or it was still in front of us. Then I got a glimpse of it turning onto the next street, closer to the courthouse.
"Keep on him!" the man said.
"Okay. I am. But, I have to tell you, I haven't been here in a long time." I said nervously.
"What's over that way?" The man pointed ahead of us.
" That's the courthouse. And the jail." I pointed.
The streets were a little different than I remembered. For an instant, I even wondered if this was the same town that was next to my hometown. There were empy lots where houses and stores had once been. The old wooden hotel and the white gas station that I remembered were still there. The bank had a new brick building closer to the highway, and a little cafe had opened to serve people traveling on this busy interstate highway. The town, like others in the county, was losing people and buildings.
"I can't remember this street, but I know that if I keep following it, it will end at the square and the courthouse. I've probably been on it, but where are the homes that I would recognize?" I tried to reason out where I was.
"Surely, if those are bad guys in the white car, they won't go near the jail and the courthouse, or even the middle of town. Or maybe this is the bad guy in here with me! He wouldn't want to go there, either, I would think." I tried to figure out what was happening.
The white car moved slowly along the narrow street, avoiding parked cars.
"Are you sure that you want to go this way? The courthouse is coming up soon."
"Yeah, I want to go there, alright. Those guys are going to get a surprise when they get by the courthouse. Just be ready to stop when I tell you to." He held his phone on the seat beside my head.
"You sure that you aren't that guy on tv, or kin to him?" I thought that maybe casual conversation might make him relax and less likely to hurt me.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said quietly. I just needed a car that those guys wouldn't recognize. And I happened to see you out there without anyone around. I left my car back there on the street. That's all. As soon as we get up here, and get them, you can go on home and about your business."
"Oh." I couldn't manage to say more.
I looked at the empty lots and tried to remember the old houses and stores that had been there. A brick furniture store was empty, the sidewalk in front, cracked. Where there once were large homes of the early settlers of the county, there were only weeds, dead trees, or new trees that had grown where a home had once been.
"You can pull in here," he pointed to a curb in front of a gnarled tree within sight of the courthouse. I could see the old hotel and gas station beyond the tree, on the next street and the highway.
"No point in you having to get into this. Just sit tight here for a little while. There might be some traffic coming this way kind of fast, or something happening that you don't need to get into."
He opened the door, got out, and stood beside the car. He was really tall, probably about 6'4", and good-looking. He squinted as he looked toward the courthouse square where the white car was heading.
"Sorry that I scared you, Ma'am," he said quietly, looking over the car, not at me. "There just wasn't time to explain. You've been a big help. And I thank you."
"Well..., " I didn't know what to say. Now that I had seen him, and listened to him, I wished I was younger, and that he might show a hint of interest in me. Instead, I had used my gas, been scared half out of my mind, been delayed from my quiet evening, and taken to a town I thought I would probably never be in again in my lifetime.
"Thank you again, Ma'am. You take it easy,now. And, by the way, I've never been on tv, but, if you watch the news tonight...." He tipped his hat and walked cautiously toward the square.
I tried to watch him as he walked down the street and wondered what might be about to happen. Maybe a bunch of Highway Patrol and police cars would rush to surround the car. Shots might be fired. Someone might be shot, or even killed. Or maybe the white car would take off again, heading for the highway that headed north, and the man would have to try to find someone else to ride with. Or he might jump in a police car, as those pulled up, and off they would go on a chase. Or, maybe, if I sat there a while, he might come back and need another ride.
I looked at the gnarled tree in front of me, waiting to see what would happen.
"This tree is kind of interesting," I thought. The warm colors of the late afternoon sun enhanced the dark crack down the side. "I wonder if squirrels or other critters live in there, and why it cracked like that. One of these days, I'll have to come back over here and paint that tree. If I can find it again." I tried to make note of the tree, the street, and what was there now, so that I could find the tree again.
Local police, county, sheriff department, and Highway Patrol cars surrounded the white car as it passed the courthouse. They seemed to appear from nowhere, rushing out of side streets and allys. The man stood out among the men in various brown and gray uniforms, with his height, his blue suit and western hat. They gathered to talk on the sidewalk in front of the old courthouse. The man and some of the officers had guns in their hands.
The men were being removed from the white car when I saw my rider wave at me. I guessed that meant that it was okay for me to leave.
I would have to listen to the news on tv when I got home to see what happened. Nosey me, of course, wanted to rush over and find out what it was all about, and possibly even get something that I could write up. I always felt sure that, in these instances, someone would tell me that it was none of my business and to get out of there. I wouldn't risk it, especially since they had guns.
I looked at the tree again. "Yes sir, I guess I will have to bring my painting things and come over here and paint you, tree, if I can ever find you again. I wonder why I never noticed you before."
"Grandma, can you wake up and make me some toast?" my young grandson asked.
I sat up in bed and tried to wake up. "What a dumb dream!" I rubbed my eyes. "All that was a dream!"
I can figure out why I might have dreamed about the tv star since I had read about him no longer being on the soap opera. But, this dream was so unsetling. Why that tree, so detailed! And the place. It may not even exist. The town does. But, it all stuck with me and I had to draw it. I will paint it and have already done the drawing on watercolor paper. One of these days, I will have to go see if I can find that tree. I can't help but wonder if the star would like my story/dream!
In my drawing, I've shown the parking spot, for once the town was busy and space was needed even far from the courthouse for parking. The curb, the old sidewalk, the weed covered lots, the old hotel, the small white filling station on the highway, and, of course, the distinctive tree are all there.
I hope that you enjoyed my tale of the "Dream Tree". I will post the paintings when I have done them.
There is another tree, that I actually drove past for years, in that county, that I have photographed, drawn, painted, wondered about, and even wrote a little about. I don't have a particular interest in trees, or flowers, for that matter, but they can be fascinating.
Let me know if you see something that is of interest to you.





