Photo prompt by me, Tim Livingston, The Forester Artist.
Bobby’s fist pounded against the metal above him. “LET ME OUT, LET ME OUT”, he yelled at the top of his lungs. His words were drowned out by to roar of the engine. Light filtered through the seams. After some time, the ride became rougher and dust began seeping into the trunk. He coughed and pounded against the metal.
The car, his car, finally began slowing. He heard branches scraping the sides, and with a loud thud it stopped. There was nothing but silence, and the smell of dust and hot brakes.
The creaking of a door snapped him back into the moment. He pounded frantically, “Come on, you had you’re big laugh, OPEN UP, OPEN UP!” A door slammed shut and a cold voice replied, “That was my baby sister, ya jerk.” “I’M SORRY, I’M SO SORRY”, Bobby cried.
Moments later, another car motor started, and then quickly faded away. Bobby lay in dark trunk whimpering.
This was drawn from a pair of geese on the mill pond. Canada geese are great subjects for pen and ink. They’re already black and white.
This gaggle spotted Sailor and Bliss over on shore. They decided to come over and cause trouble for my goldens, who were minding their own business. Typical rabble rousing degenerate geese!
Sailor couldn’t take it anymore and swam out to say hello. What’s a boy to do.
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Winter logging is already hit or miss with the wet weather shut downs. This year is off the charts. Trucks parked with no place to go has been a pretty common sight this season.
This skull intrigued me with its bleached bone and hard shadows. I wondered what happened to cause it to be here. It was wild and dirty, and crying out to be drawn. So draw it I did!
On our way into camp we often stop in a particular landing to give everyone a break from the ride. A D6 Cat tractor was parked there for several months. A local logger had been using it for road repair and erosion control work. During one stop at the landing we found a bear skull. It wasn’t a large skull, probably from a young bear or a sow.
I couldn’t resist placing the skull in the tractor for the loggers to find. It sat there for weeks undisturbed. Until one day, while we were coming through, it had disappeared. Somebody or something must have taken a fancy to it and packed it off. When I first saw the skull I wondered what it’s story was, but it seems that it’s story may not be done. I wonder where it is now.
It’s situated next to the Upper Sacramento River north of Northern California (Jefferson).
But winter is still trying to wash California away. Here are some pictures of the Sacramento River in the Northern California.