Looking out from the porch, these are the hills I see from where I live. I put it in a modern frame because I like modern frames for everything. I'm so sick of old fashioned frames--- especially the plein-air repetitive styles. Finally I found them so disgusting I gave them all away. You see them too, too much.
I'm going to do a bigger version of this, which is more of a sketch, 16"20". Parts of it will change. For about five minutes most mornings the hills here glow with a coral, salmon intensity that is remarkable. The mountain fades almost immediately and becomes sandy colored with cobalt shadows on clear days, or mauve shadows on murky days. If you drive or walk until you are close enough to touch the mountain walls you see them rising sheer and rocky straight out of the flat ground, with a luminosity that comes from the crystallized rockthat forms them---I don't know if they are granite, but some similar mineral that is reflective. It makes wonderful lighting effects.
Before I lived in the low desert, I didn't realize what 'low desert' was, though I had heard people say 'low desert', 'high desert'---- it means elevation. Since I've lived here I have worked on still life mostly, and haven't gone out and painted the landscape till just now. I've lived along the coast for so many years, and am enjoying the new scenery. I don't think I would ever want to live in a seaside community again; the traffic jams and the t-shirt shops have filled my eyes and mind long enough. It's so pretty here. I like the desert light. Clear, strong, from all sides it seems, an oceanic light that makes you feel like you are on a ship or an island surrounded by a bright vast emptiness.
There are different sorts of desert animals here that I haven't seen before, and some I have seen before like coyotes.
There are so many birds here, swarms of hummingbirds like little clouds moving around. Mornings, other birds appear and move along the ground, low dark shapes, giving the curious impression of being underwater and moving slowly in a current. There is a hawk that makes circles in the sky, and hides in the thickest, most shadowed grapefruit tree to drop like a deadly stone if a rabbit passes underneath. I've seen that--- And not even a squeak from the rabbit. Sometimes in the morning you see the head of a rabbit laying on the grass, and some paws, neatly cut with some organs laying near it---I have no clue if the hawk or what other animal does that. Maybe an owl. Spooky.
There used to be lizards living near the front door in a sunny spot, a big meaty lizard that liked to sunbathe in the mid-morning heat, and a smaller lizard that did the same thing. They never sat in the same patch of sun at the same time. When the little one was out, the big one was gone, and when the big one was sunning, the little one vanished. A few times I saw the big one with his meaty bow-legs chase the smaller one back under his own smaller sage bush. They faced off with each other alot like two adversaries in an old western, a menacing stare-down. When I opened the front door it seemed to give them the excuse to call it quits without losing face. They would scurry off to their opposite bushes.
Sometimes the thin whip lizards zip by, now you see them---now you dont. Startling. Really it looks like the flash of a whip it is so fast.
It always makes me think of that poem, "I passed, I thought, a whipash---- unbraiding in the sun----and stooping to secure it----it wrinkled and was gone." Emily Dickinson was writing about a slower garter snake----whip lizards are so fast you think you are seeing things. You just barely see a flicker and the movement of what might be a swift shadow. Sometimes in the day I've heard a powerful rush of wings go right by, and I look up and around---but whatever swift bird it was, has already disappeared. I wish a naturalist lived next door so I could have all my questions answered !
The lizard drama altered when I opened the door one day and saw a roadrunner jogging past. At once the roadrunner hopped behind the big sage bush. When I walked to the bush and looked around, I saw the back of the roadrunner---it was peeking around the other side of the bush, looking for me. I made that horsey clicking sound with my cheek, and the roadrunner jumped straight up in the air, made a 180 and faced me, unafraid. it looked me up and down, then sauntered off, still turning back to look at me. It was so funny I laughed and laughed, and it still kept staring as it went away. Then I started to see it almost every day, and it didn't hide behind the bush any more, but just walk by turning its head to look me over while I said "Hello there, Roady." Sometimes it would stare at me and give a little bounce, and stop to see what I was up to. It seemed very intelligent. Roadrunners are interesting to look at, very sculptural and a lovely pattern in their quills. I wanted to put out a strip of chicken or beef for it, but it's not good to feed wild animals. Turns out, of course it was not necessary for me to feed the roadrunner---he knew where the lizards lived. Now Big LIzard , and Little LIzard are gone. I've not even seen the whip lizards for a while. And Roady is probably trotting along in more populous lizardy places.
I've heard that roadrunners are good to have around because they enjoy eating scorpions and rattlesnakes, so they do a good service. Someone I knew who was builing a new house in the country had to put out little traps for the field mice who were running all over the new construction since the final finish-doors of the house hadn't been installed yet. He lay the dead mice on a stone wall for the animals to come and take. Next morning, when he put out more mice, all previous mice were gone and there was a roadrunner there waiting for him. All the mice were taken away. Next day, a couple more roadrunners were there, waiting. Eventually, he said there would be six or seven roadrunners waiting for the daily delivery of mice, the roadrunners waiting all in a row on the stone wall.