This is a painting of Maxwell Canyon during a summer in the early seventies. It had a special place on my mother, Mimi's wall for many years. I can guess why she had such affection for it. She used to gather wild flowers there in that beautiful little valley in the summertime. We would travel to the canyon on a Greyhound bus and my uncle Jon would meet us at the bus station.

The next thing I knew we were unfolding the bed with its blue striped mattress cover. Mimi would keep our bedding in plastic bags to keep out the red dust and an occasional daddy long legs spider.
We placed the bed by the patio door in the large room opposite the fireplace.

We lit a kerosene lamp and ate home made bread that my aunt Verda made with fresh milk from the evening milking. It was just oh so good. We crawled into bed and snuggled under the down comforter and pretty soon it was morning and the sun was streaming through the cottage windows and my mom was no where to be seen.

Then I heard her footsteps and she came in through the west door her arms holding a large bouquet of wildflowers, and Grandma's nightcaps. She hummed as she placed them in a large bowl on the table and spent several minutes arranging them. Mimi was beautiful and graceful as she worked and to my four year old mind I was the luckiest little girl in the world.

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