Cachagua 

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  Moonrise Cachagua
  by Barbara Sparhawk

  US$4.99–US$133.00

  Oil on Canvas. Detail, work in progress. Available in prints, cards, & t shirts (click on “clothing”). / Cachagua is inland from the Pacific, Central Coast California. (That’s a hundred miles south of San Francisco, north of LA about 350 miles). A place of empty wilderness except for a handful of hearty families, horse and cattle ranches, vineyards. Mysticism and spirits, a hot spring Buddhist retreat, canyons and the gentle sand suede Santa Lucia Mountains that stretch to the coast.. Steep & narrow dirt roads. There are mists at dawn and sunset, burned off midday by intense sun. Mountain lions, rattle snakes, deer, bobcat, coyotes, incredible birds like the 12 foot wingspanned Condor, the Golden Eagle, owls, and Cooper’s hawks populate the skies. At night, stars horizon to horizon and the full of the Milky Way overhead. / A moonrise lights the valleys. You can hear your own heart beating. / LIved there a year, just starting to paint it. / The name’s pronounced kaSHAHwa. I don’t know if it’s Spanish or American Indian or both.

• From The Front Lines, Fire Update
  by Barbara Sparhawk

  I just spent the day, about 6 hours, in Cachagua helping friends clear the land around their houses. Big gasoline weed whacker strapped t…

  I just spent the day, about 6 hours, in Cachagua helping friends clear the land around their houses. Big gasoline weed whacker strapped to a harness around my chest (NOT designed for anyone with boobs). I wore sunglasses but refused the helmet goggle combo as too sissy. We cleared hillsides and embankments and the sides of the dirt road up, and everything we could near the house. It’s in pretty good shape (unlike me!) Lord but it’s dry land. I hosed down everything within about fifty feet of the house. The sky’s red, but there’s not really smoke in the air, you just know something’s going on. / We were losing sight of one low gentle mountain range after another to smoke out there. You can normally see about five or six in a row. The fire is definitely closing in, you could see plumes of black smoke on top of the most distant ridge. / My friend’s husband is a musician, he’s off playing a gig in Big Sur today! OMG don’t get me started about husbands. There were three of us girls there, and said in folklore to come stories will be told and songs written about the pioneer women who saved California! We were drinking ice tea an gin. / It all felt like the first time I was suited up and putting out a barn fire in Virginia, part of the Volunteer Blue Ridge Firefighters, and tearing off all the sweaty suit and helmet and dropping the oxygen and WAHOOOO!! I was screaming oh my God this is fantastic! I want to get laid and drink beer!!! I know exactly how you guys feel! Fortunately none of the muffin baking wives were within range. Nobody’s ever known what the hell to do with me. / Well, it was an odd experience. I packed up two antique fiddles that hadn’t fitted in the first run, all of my friend’s cashmere sweaters and clothes, a neighbor’s weed whacker and my shovels and rakes. Finally home and showered. / You just don’t know, is it an emergency or will it pass you by. Will you still have a house on Monday and feel foolish for moving all you love out of range. We’ll see. I’ll listen for updates. / Pray for heavy rain! Looks like the thunder storms are passing. No lightning, but no water either. The closest fire’s only 3 percent contained. Less than 5 miles from the Cachagua country store. / My neighborhood’s still a good distance, no sense of danger here at all it’s all burning inland and south, I’m close to the Carmel River. / Will keep posting updates. / My love to you all for your good wishes and prayers. / Barbara

• Cachagua Fires Contained - 100%
  by Barbara Sparhawk

  They’re out. We’re in. All evacuees have returned home with their families, animals and surfboards. The sky is blue. Life is good. / I’ve …

  They’re out. We’re in. All evacuees have returned home with their families, animals and surfboards. The sky is blue. Life is good. / I’ve felt like a giant crumb to have vanished from so many friends here for the past month plus, not much time except a fast leap in every now and then, and I miss you one and all. RedBubble has been a terrific place for friendships for me. Please forgive my absence from your wonderful lives. A couple of great things happening (is this post-flaming karma?) 1. I sold 28 tee shirts on Zazzle. I know, I can’t believe it either. One customer, no art work. Just MARS ROCKS in honor of NASA’s landing on Mars. A total stranger in Salt Lake City, different sizes, Black with red and white lettering. The bad news is that I’d put them on sale, and lowered the percentage to ten. Out of almost six hundred dollars in sales, I get about sixty. If only…....but then they’d might not have bought at full price. I almost passed out. THERE’S HOPE OUT THERE!!! Who’d have dreamed it, not me. 2. I got an actual portrait commission. Two people in a family. Incredible project for me and good pay for it. About four to six months of work ahead, about 7 feet by 5 feet I’m figuring. Photos and downpayment to arrive this week sometime, and yes I’ll be buying up RBers work. An excellent Brooklyn lawyer once told me not to count on anything until the check cleared the bank. I know it’ll happen. Why do I keep waking up in a cold sweat, then run to the post office filled with hope. Okay, filled with hope is how I do things, precipice or not. 3. A new friend has just put up some of her strong and beautiful artwork on RedBubble. I’m impressed. I think she’s very good, and you’ll profit from a visit to her page. She’s graysart. I hope that comes up in the search engine because I’m still no good at making links here. Most of all, the dust has settled, the red skies night and day are gone, the gorgeous firemen from all over the globe (Australia, Canada, Samoans! – THANK YOU) went home. Then some genius decided it was the perfect time to repave the only road into town. We’ve had enough. We want to be left alone to cultivate our gardens and suntans and smell the roses. Nearly every tree in town has a sign tied to it, drawn by some precious juvenile in crayon, that shouts out “Thank you Firepeople!” in a hundred colors. It’s very touching, really. They were great. / And by the end of the week I hope to at least get back into the swing of all things RB, and if not catching up on all the splendid work of those I so love here, at least starting in on your latest creations. / My best to one and all, / Barbara / PS check out graysart.