Revisiting Memories through Art

A Christmas visit with our daughter, Amanda, ended up with us looking at some of our favorite paintings that reside as copies on our computers.  We also challenged our mental acuity to complete a puzzle we had made from one of Kären's painting.  Wow -- her brushwork! Her visual surprises.  It made me appreciate that painting so much more.  

So given it's the end of the old year, I thought I'd post images of some of the paintings from past years where the back stories we shared with Amanda felt like we were in a time capsule -- and, of course, the puzzle.  In this post I'll stick to representational paintings -- except the puzzle.

Alaska Monolith

Alkyd on panel 12 x 16 inches

During a visit to Alaska's Matanuska Valley, I revisited some of the areas where we spent so many happy hours hiking, skiiing and photographing the joys of living in Alaska.  And yet, somehow, after countless trips into the Hatcher Pass area of the Talkeetna Mountains, I never noticed this peak.  Talk about an artists special abilities to see what so many miss!  Hopefully this painting, based on a photo I took that day, rectifies that problem.

One Last Thing

Acrylic diptych, Each 9x12 inches

Creating Shutterfly calendars during our visit led us to focusing on Kärens photographs of ravens.  Which leads me to include one of my favorite paintings by her, a diptych of a pair of ravens with one of them getting in the last word.  In case you didn't notice, each painting is of the same bird.  Yes, that's one of the advantages painting has over photography.

Along the Cutoff

Alkyd on panel 12 x 16 inches

It was May and yet winter still lingered along the Haines Cutoff between Haines, Alaska and Haines Junction, Yukon.  Ahead of us, as we drove north, a mountain glisteneded like it was coated in ice.  We had to get photos of it.  And then a pullout appeared.  Look closely and you'll see a willow ptarmigan that greeted us when we turned off the highway.

Along the Dempster

Watercolor. 9 x 12 inches

Kären captured this view during one of our very favorite drives -- the Dempster Highway leading from near Dawson City, Yukon, 478 miles (769 km) north to Inuvik, Northwest Territories.  While the route is an artists and photographers dream, it does present several challenges -- a rocky road surface made to shred tires and the further north you drive mosquitoes so thick that when you face into a stiff wind, they take advantage of the shelter you provide and your back look like it's been spray painted with pepper.  But, the views and wildlife -- oh my.

El Cabezone

Alkyd on Canvas  20 x 24 inches

Gazing out our plane's window as we approached Albuquerque, New Mexico, we viewed 

in the distance

 one reason why the southwest holds such mystique -- El Cabezone.  We had to see it up close.  Sure enough, in a couple of days we were bouncing down a dirt road closing in on a trail leading up the volcanic plug.  But, wait, the most artistic view of El Cabezone seemed to be looking up a stream bed we crossed on the way.  So here it is.  For the record, we were able to climb half way up the mountain until it transformed from a hike into a technical climb.

Baird's Retreat

Watercolor  14 x 21 inches

To keep up her teaching certificate, Kären had to take so many hours of continuing education.  And, somehow a class on brown bears qualified.  To meet the course requirements she had to complete either a written paper or a painting.  In true Groth fashion she did both, with the paper including illustrations, plus a separate painting -- each one being completed, in true Kären fashion, on butcher paper -- a surface not considered to be archival.  I was so taken by the painting of Baird Glacier I convinced her to create another version on a surface (watercolor paper) we could have framed and enjoy without watching it deteriorate.

Bessie at the Helm

Watercolor  9 x 13 inches

Kären based this painting on a photograph I took of my kayaking. companion, our golden retriever Bessie, as we kayaked out of LeConte Bay in the USFS Stickine - LeConte Wilderness Area.  After two nights camping 

in the fiord

, the second near the face of LeConte Glacier, a drizzle had descended on us.  So I decided to head back to Petersburg with Bessie pointing the way home -- well maybe would have if she had been awake.  Come to think of it, that night camping close to the glacier is worthy of a blog post because, let's say, it failed to meet the definition of uneventful.

  

Four on the Point

Alkyd on Canvas. 18x 24 inches

17.5 miles south of Petersburg the only bridge across Blind Slough leads to the Crystal Lake Fish Hatchery. We never fail to stop in the middle of the structure to enjoy the views both up and down the Slough while we try to spot wildlife from bears to swans.  I based this painting on the view further up the Slough where four alders that grow on a point of land jutting into the Slough were backlit by the morning sun and as it's winter coat of ice was relinquishing it's frozen grip 

Tongass Backwater  

Alkyd on canvas. 18 x 24 inches

In days of yore we had a fleet of watercraft.  A 17-foot fiberglass boat, a 17-foot Klepper kayak and a 17-foot aluminum canoe -- all purchased under different circumstances with no consideration of length.  The day I took the reference photo for this painting a friend and I paddled the canoe upstream from the bridge across Blind slough -- come to think of it -- past the alders in the above painting "Four on the Point."  There we landed at the mouth of a tiny stream that used to drain a large pond created by a beaver dam.  I say "used to" since the beaver are no longer there so neither is the pond.  But, I digress.  I painted "Tongass Backwater" from the mouth of the stream.  For the record the day we discovered the pond was missing, we dragged the canoe around log jams and over all-matter of foot-entangling brush (never finding enough water to float the canoe) only to discover a grassy meadow behind the beaver dam.

And now, (sound the trumpets) Kären's painting that we had made into a puzzle.

Why Snowmen Don't Have Noses

Watercolor  16 x 20 inches

Kären let her imagination run wild as she joyfully painted this rendition of the view from our living room window.  Somehow our local deer herd seems to relish carrots they have stolen from the snowmen while our house has been moved across the street.

And finally, the "Why Snowmen Don't Have Noses" puzzle.  With only  252 pieces it still proved to be a real challenge.

Karen's Aura

Karen connects with critters.  Encountering virtually any pooch during her frequent walks, it will "melt" in her presence.  She constantly hears "Grizz," or whatever the usually wary or shy dog's name is, "never does that for anyone.  Never!"  Karen's an "animal whisperer" and their 6th sense "reads" it.  That's why she gets such natural photos of everything from bears to slugs to, well, greater yellowlegs.

And so, during a recent outing, Karen heard a racket.  The source: a raucous handful of crows, the creaky door-hinge screech of a bald eagle and frantic alarm cries from two greater yellowlegs, a shorebird that nests in our local muskegs.  Aha, thought Karen, a photo op.  

Slogging towards the sound through the muskeg she discovered the three vocal species in trees bordering a small pond while three naive fledgling yellowlegs set about their daily chores among the sedges surrounding the pond.  This scenario's natural progression might have been the eagle would swoop down to kidnap one of the young yellowlegs.  With dinner secure in the eagle's talons, the crows would charge forth in a well orchestrated attempt to appropriate the raptor's feast for their own dining pleasure while the adult yellowlegs vocalized extreme displeasure as they pursued in a futile rescue mission. 

But a guardian angel arrived to change the narrative.  And that angel, Karen, had neared the yellowlegs family.  In such situations frantic yellowlegs, being vigorous defenders of their nests and fledglings, dive bomb to within inches of we humans with incessant no trespassing warnings that make us duck or perhaps consider donning a World War I helmet for safety.  Always.

Instead, these adult yellowlegs quieted down, surveying the action from trees as the crows and eagles lingered in "theirs."  Somehow those extremely protective shore birds sensed Karen was an ally.  I can be the distance of three end to end football fields (with the end zones tacked on) from a yellowlegs nest or chick and I'm going to be under siege.

Karen stealthily inched forward to where she could clearly see the entire family.  Reaching perhaps the length of a bowling alley from the birds, she sank down into the muskeg with sundew practically towering above her, and paused.  Wait a minute!  There are no bowling alleys in muskegs or football fields nor can Karen hide behind a sundew plant.  Sorry about that!

There she waited next to the yellowlegs brood while no warning calls, no threatening dive bombing -- just silence prevailed.  Soon one of the birds waded towards Karen and the frustrated predators exited stage left while Karen, now adopted by the family, seemed no more threatening than a blueberry. 

Karen writes, "It was an experience I will never forget, watching the interactions of three fledglings splash with great abandon, water droplets flying everywhere.  They dunked their whole body under and bobbed to the surface, only to repeat, shimmering in the golden sunlight, paddling close to one another while the third bird preened and closed it's eyes." 

Yes Karen's "aura" once again reigned and something that "never happens," happened -- or doesn't it?  Today she reflects on the time when a mother hoary marmot on a wild ridge in the Yukon left Karen to babysit her playful pups while mama scampered off to another ridge to gather "hay."   But, that's another story.

The pond

A watchful parent

There's no way Karen can hide behind this long leaf sundew!

Is this what pecking order means?

That lady looks pretty funny from this point of view

A bird needs to be careful when stretching because...

A lesson in health care:  Remember that blade of sedge from the last photo?

Wait a minute!  How can a bird have such long legs?

Better look again.

Bath time.  Karen wanted to join in.

Is this nap time or are "we" preening?

Or could this be nap time with the ultimate feather pillow?

What! Is this fledgling scratching with its wing?

And so we'll end with this image of two innocents that 

never knew how their Guardian Angel saved them.

One Way to Get a Fish Dinner

He was standing by the road in downtown Petersburg, his thumb out, fishing pole in hand.    We knew him, had even given him a ride before, so pulled over. 

“Where you headed, Lorry?”

“Ohmer Creek,”. he responded in his characteristic gravelly voice — a voice often heard on KFSK, Petersburg’s public radio station where Lorry volunteers to host an eclectic mix of shows from classical music to rock.

“You’re in Luck, That’s where we’re headed.”

Only Karen and I were headed off for a hike on one of our favorite trails while Lorry was headed for one of his favorite fishing holes.  With a short detour we delivered him unscathed to his destination with a promise to check to see if he wanted a ride home when we headed back to town.

                       A handicap-accessible portion of the OhmerCreek Trail parallels our favorite beaver pond.

                   Nearby looking towards the pond.  Come to think of it, perhaps I should include a shot of the pond.

There:  This is a blog readers challenge.  Use the reflection of a leaning spruce tree in the beaver pond along with the image of the shoreline and that of seeds of something washed against the foot bridge to create your own image of the pond.

Oh yes, the foot bridge.  We intercepted the migration of a porcupine crossing the bridge.  After several unsuccessful attempted detours he or she retreated.  Good thing, too.  It was much safer where it came from.

For us the day proved to be the kind that makes us love the mystery of this coastal rainforest with the added bonus of autumn colors — at least a few in places where they decided it was time to shed their summer green mantle.  We lingered long and often.

                 By lingering (waiting for me) Karen discovered this Sitka Spruce limb cut down or off by a beaver

                        And these low-bush cranberries which had a short survival span after she spotted them.

This is about a colorful as alders get in fall.  Although they are related to birch trees, one thing they do not share is the wonderful yellow color as summer transitions into winter.  However, their bright spring ""plumage," not dissimilar form these fall colors, somewhat makes up for it after a drab winter.

                Karen "waltzes" through the muskeg adjacent to the trail being careful not to step on any cranberries.

At last we completed the two mile circuit the trail offered over a variety of surfaces — older gravels melded into the forest floor, across a weathering bridge we dread seeing the day it has to be replaced, down slippery single plank boards, over an area of little more than mud holes between exposed roots and finally a brand new elevated gravel pad that removed us psychologically from the forest until the route ended on on a gravel road for the last half mile or so — the last segment  decorated with seemingly lost wooly bear caterpillars, the larval stage of tiger moths.

Woolly Bear Caterpillar on an alder leaf.  Now I've been seeing these caterpillars in the fall for a number of years, and rescuing them as they crossed the road for the same number of years -- tossing them into the grass, but it finally took Karen's keen observational skills on this hike to figure out where they really belonged.  Yep -- they like munching on alder leaves. 

As promised we returned to Lorry’s fishing hole to see if he was ready to “hitchhike” with us home.

“Naw, I think I stay a while longer.  Oh, would you like a coho,” he said pointing to a large, bright salmon laying nearby.  We drooled.

“Are you sure you don’t need it?” I replied, but Lorry was sure and in the end he added a nice cutthroat trout to the ante.

                                                              Lorry and his gift.  He even cleaned it for us.

And all we wanted to do was give a kind gentle man a lift.