It's Raining, It's Pouring...

Rainy day on the Snake River.

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain on our metal roof.  Looking down the canyon, I saw my favorite kind of painting day: saturated golds against moisture-laden grays.  Living in dry Wyoming, I don't get a lot of these days, so I don't mind getting a little wet in order to capture some inspiration.  After eating a quick breakfast and getting my daughter fed, (and thanks to my husband's willingness to have a Daddy day : ), I loaded up my car and headed down the road. 



Super double secret painting location.

 I don't make much progress on days like this.  It takes me 20 minutes just to travel a mile, stopping every few hundred feet to evaluate the potential for paintings, maybe shoot a few photos, maybe do a sketch.  I finally ended up in a secret favorite spot.  Okay it's not that secret, but I won't tell you more than it's near Pritchard Landing, just a couple miles from my house.  The color and light were heart-wrenchingly beautiful, and despite the continuing rain, I set up my french easel and umbrella, figuring it would slow eventually, and I'd be all ready to go.  Meanwhile, the back of my easel was filling with rain.  I couldn't get my sketch finished because my sketchbook was getting soaked by huge drops of rain, even under the umbrella (which continuously dripped down my back).  Despite all my rain gear, I was well-soaked within a short amount of time, as the rain never slowed.  To add insult to injury, my panel had gotten wet during the set-up, and paint wouldn't stick to the surface; I'd lay down a stroke and as the brush dragged over the previous stroke, it would lift it back up.  Sigh.  I admitted defeat and packed up my muddy, water-logged gear (the wood of my easel had swelled enough to make the thumb-screws impossible to loosen, so I had to shove my easel into my car with the rear leg still extended).

Ah well.  Plans foiled.  But the rain!  It was making everything so phenomenally, moodily beautiful.  I couldn't go home yet.  So I drove on down the canyon, stopping at the East Table boat ramp on the Snake River.  The rain had let up a bit, so I slogged off along the river, enjoying the kaleidescopic color of the wet cobblestones, inhaling the damp autumn perfume, and listening to the river rushing by me.  The painting might not have physically happened, but in my mind it did.  And later, in the studio, I got to put some of that inspiration down.  In the meantime, I found some treasures for my daughter.  And some for me as well.



Treasures found (with boots).



Happiness found (with rain).