Glen Ivy Eucalyptus

This eucalyptus tree has waited patiently for me to paint it for at least 20 years. Two weeks ago I approached it with a warm “Hello, remember me?” I searched for a safe place to sit and spend some time with colored pencils and sketch book. This was the service road – the road where all the Latinos work endlessly to keep the grounds perfectly beautiful. This is also where a person could encounter a rattler, even on this 88 degree December day.
I chose a rock where I could sit comfortably. The tree and I communed. I chose my pencils but kept adding colors as I saw the subtle variations in the pale bark. It was quiet except for the red headed woodpeckers. They are always there as far as I can tell. I seem to be the only one fascinated by them. The locals see them too often I suppose.
I did have a visitor during my hour perched on the rock. A golf cart strained to make it up the hill and the driver stopped directly in front of me. He respectfully hesitated before he addressed me. “Senora, you draw?” He wanted to see my barely started sketch. “Muy bueno.” Big smile. I asked him what he was working on? He gestured up the hill at the ancient cabins. He said he lived nearby and he was very happy. He could go home to his wife and children every night. Not like other times- at least that is what I think he said. He seemed very sweet – it was so nice to meet someone like that.
I found out later from a handsome and strapping Irishman that they were replacing the 1940’s plumbing in the little cabins. He looked so capable, the Irish guy and I could tell he would have liked to walk and talk. He is new to the United States. But no, I had no extra time to talk. I was missing spa time to get in some art time. Then another attunement session. Seriously, I would like to go to Glen Ivy for a personal art retreat. The place is a visual feast and is loaded with source imagry I probably do not even know is there yet. This is the year of doing things differently.