A Little Lonely and Locked Out (Idaho Road Trip)

My morning ritual seems to go like this:  I wake up and make a latte.  I stare at my paintings while I drink it.  I put Buster’s “Super-dog uniform” on, shut the door and leave the cabin for a walk.  We feed the horse a carrot, return to the cabin, find we are locked out, take the screen off the window and climb in.  My leg won’t bend because my knee is swollen so this task is a little difficult.  Then I go to the general store to use the Internet.

There is no key to the cabin.  I hate to pester the owner.  I want to make a good impression as an Easterner and not appear flakey.  If they found out I regularly lock myself out I’d be embarrassed.

This morning I ran into the ranch owner, Nick Purdy.  He gave me the name of an orthopedic doctor in Ketchum who is not surgery crazy.  I’d rather go to a doctor out here any day than one back in Saint Louis because there are more athletes around and therefore better doctors.  I made an appointment to get this knee looked at next Tuesday.

I’m feeling a little lonely this morning possibly because it is the weekend and I have no plans.  I know that as soon as I get painting I’ll feel better.

I drove to the cinder cone again to paint.  It was a frustrating experience.  I hiked/limped up and down the cone three times to get stuff I forgot out of my truck.  This painting is not coming out so well.  I want it to be knarly, visceral and worked. The problem is the composition is symmetrical and that is always a killer for a painting.  Also, how can I make a giant hole interesting?  I’m trying but loosing the battle.  It is more like wrestling an alligator than painting.  The wind doesn’t help but actually it could be much much worse.  I can’t blame the weather–it is pretty good.  I’m just not making a good painting.  Maybe I should attach a basketball hoop to the picture plane. I’m going to give it one more shot tomorrow.

I went to the local hot spring at sunset with Buster on the way back to the cabin.  The tips of the grass blades growing appeared to have golden minnow skeletons on the tips.  The moon was almost full and there were tons of red dragonflies the size of hummingbirds zooming about, bumping into each other.  If they weren’t so big I’d have said it was a hatch. I couldn’t tell if they were feeding on smaller insects or attempting to mate before the frost and death.

I stopped by the store and got Gatorade and dog food.  I’m now back at the cabin looking at this annoying painting and elevating my knee.