Have you ever been to a place that seemed to be enchanted, or spellbinding in its effect on you? I believe I was around 12 years old the first time I saw the misty hills and summits of the Great Smoky Mountains of far east Tennessee. It was early morning and the mysterious hills rose out of the mist, the road vanishing in the mix of mountain, valley, and vapor. It seemed like we were moving into a spellbinding mysterious world.
I was reminded of that first trip to those beloved mountains this January, when Donna and I had to make a “funeral trip” back to the Georgia-North Carolina-Tennessee area; a trip we have made many times.
A few days after the celebration of a life well lived, Donna and I took a couple of days and visited some of the old places of our youth in the tri-state area of Tennessee, Georgia, and North Carolina. Although most of the 3 days were shrouded by clouds and rain, the mountains remained. Even with all the madness of the current world, little had changed in the blue mountains of past days.
As we drove an old familiar highway from North Georgia, crossing over into North Carolina in route to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, we remembered the foolish days when we were not yet twenty, driving this same road to get the cheap North Carolina cigarettes, which I believe were $3 per carton. (wisdom and age have long since informed us that is was a good thing to lay that burning tobacco down 😊 )
The old red barn above was on that first leg of our journey, and I remain intrigued and fascinated by the many stories the old place could tell if it could speak for a little bit. I enjoyed working though this little piece from one of the photos we shot and will probably re-visit this subject in the future. This work is called Appalachian Red, and as I mentioned it is somewhere on the Georgia/North Carolina boarder.
We rode through Bryson City and Cherokee North Carolina, then crossed the mountains into Tennessee, finally stopping at Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. The next day two we drove in and around the mountains, shooting photos for many future paintings, hopefully. The last day before preparing for the dreaded trip back across the Mississippi, the clouds moved in bringing rain and mist, which seemed rather at home in the silent, enduring land of Appalachia. With a chill in the air, rain constantly reinforcing the water on the roads and everything else, as well as the ever-present drops on the camera lens, Donna and I shot some interesting photos of the “other-worldliness” I alluded to at the beginning of this blog.
Image of Smoky Mountain Rain
Smoky Mountain Rain was created from some of those reference shots. Several other works from this photo series are in the que as well.
Finally, the last day before heading back to Dallas, I was able to set up my small easel and paint a couple hours behind the house Donna was raised in. For years I have heard Donna talk about the creek behind the house she used to play in, catching crawdads and snakes; the creek that also was home to leeches that found new, temporary source of protein as they latched onto the little white legs of her and her siblings.
Since the temperature was dropping due to the sun falling low in the winter sky, I chose a simple little scene on the banks of the creek.
When traveling I carry a limited selection of color. For this painting I squeezed out Ultramarine Blue, Alizarin Crimson and Cadmium Yellow Light, some white and a bit of Chromatic Black. This is one of the strongest limited palette assortments of color, and great for travel.
I loved the lighting on this particular evening, as the sun lit up the fields with golden light, casting shadows across the banks of the creek. As the sun dropped what seemed faster and faster, the evening could not be held back. The temperature kept dropping and the sun finally began to drop behind a nearby ridge in this beautiful Tennessee landscape. I gave up after a couple of hours, having roughly captured a section of “The Creek”, as it rested quietly in the fading light.
The funeral I mentioned above was the home-going of Donna’s beloved Aunt, Clara Lee. After more than 40 days in the hospital, battling the devasting effects of COVID, Clara Lee left this present darkness and traveled into the presence of her savior and redeemer, Jesus Christ. She was a beloved aunt, wife, mother, and friend to many. Indeed, a life well lived, one that finished strong. As we stood on the side of a cold, windy hill in Blue Ridge, Georgia, something in the universe seemed broken, bent and twisted. There was a void in the hearts and lives of those close to her, and it even seemed the Blue Ridge air was not as inviting as it once was. Even as we stared at a casket which held the shell of the body that once housed her person, her spirit, Clara Lee was gone.
Cemeteries are always an excellent reality check. On a headstone, there is a dash between the date of our birth and the date of our death. We are living that dash right now. Cemeteries also point us to our need for a savior, a redeemer; Someone to rescue us from the law of sin and death.
I am reminded of an awesome conversation between Jesus and Martha, the sister of Lazarus who had died of a sickness. Jesus went to the grave side, the cemetery if you will, and in her time of pain over the death of her brother, she told Jesus that if He had been present, her brother Lazarus would not have died. Jesus told her this in verse 23 of chapter 11: “Your brother will rise again”. Verse 24 thru 26 continues:
Martha *said to Him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die. Do you believe this?”
That is the question a visit to the cemetery forces us to think about: “Do you believe this?”
Forget all the cold, sterile religion and remember what Jesus said: “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies…”
Clara Lee had long ago put her trust in Christ. It is not my words, but the words of Jesus that remind us that even when her body died, she will yet again live.
The Gospel of Jesus Christ is indeed “good news” to all who put their trust in His death and resurrection. Trust Him.
But when this perishable will have put on the imperishable, and this mortal will have put on immortality, then will come about the saying that is written, “DEATH IS SWALLOWED UP in victory.
“O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR VICTORY? O DEATH, WHERE IS YOUR STING?”
The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law; but thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your toil is not in vain in the Lord.
Until next time, hope you have a great spring, another reminder of new life to come.
