Calendar Painting

      More Letters From Paradise
         Calendar Painting
Last evening while looking at the picture on the calendar hanging in the bathroom, I was reminded of other calendars.

Years ago while the snow had covered the road, and before the coming of the snow plow, I suddenly felt that I needed to go to the grain elevator, and have some corn ground for my chickens.The December day was dark and dreary, as I fought my way through the drifted snow. Upon my arrival in the  office of the grain elevator, I found a group of farmers huddled around the oil stove, warming their hands, and discussing what a difficult time they had in getting there. And on the counter there was a large bottle of whiskey, some paper cups, and  a large pile of rolled up calendars. The calendars were very large with bold printed, black and red numbers. No pictures, just advertisements for farm products. I sipped my whiskey and joined the farmers at the stove.

In December, I am given a calendar from the service station where I always take my car. It is only about four by five inches. No pictures, but only phone numbers, and the promise of good service.

I am very particular about the selection of my  calendar. It must have country scenes, and always a snow picture for December. These calendars are often hard to find, and so must be ordered. I remember reading somewhere that the French painter Paul Gauguin, painting in Tahiti, painted a snow scene as his last picture.

This month I felt that the picture was rather blah, so I covered it with a picture from an earlier calendar. There are several which are hidden behind the current calendar.

I like this painting very much. It shows a young boy with his back to the viewer. He holds a fishing pole in his hands. And he is fishing in a shallow stream. Near him are poplar trees. The artist has done an excellent job. He has pictured it just right. It is as if I had posed for the painting so many years ago. But the artist could not paint the deep silence, nor the smell of the poplar trees. Although I know it was there.

The painting does not tell the whole story. For the boy had left the house with his fishing pole, and had walked the path through the tall grass to the stream. He passed the log shed where Patsy, the cow, had once lived, and down the hill to the log dam. He walked  a bit down the stream and begin to fish, as seen in the painting.  He caught a small trout out of season, and returned with it to the house for admiration.  Next, he cut off the head of the trout, and slit its belly to empty its contents. The fish had pink flesh, because it was a native trout, not a planted one.    The boy then rolled the fish in corn meal, and placed it in a hot cast-iron frying pan. The pan had just fried some bacon. This is exactly how Hemingway  cooked his trout, in one of his short stories. When the trout was cooked, the boy opened the fish, and with his thumb and index finger, pulled away the back bone along with the ribs. He then sat down and enjoyed his fish.

This is the painting on my calendar this month. What picture is on yours?

        Aloha
        Grant