Wind, Rain and Rust
We had made our yearly trip out to the west slope late one September. The years have told us that fall works out better for this trip than summer. The weather is pleasant in the Yampa Valley. Spending a couple of days out there is always good therapy for us.
The lodge where we spend our nights opens us up to the local color and, as we walk around the town of Yampa, we notice things. Cool cars, trucks and other rustic western artifacts just waiting to be recorded visually in one way or another. That’s what I was thinking when I came upon this old truck buried in the weeds toward the open valley. Seeing the rusted out doors and flat tires reminded me of my own wear and tear. I thanked the Lord for the privilege of standing there, still inspired, and always on the lookout for that special ingredient for my next painting. “This could be it,” I thought to myself.
The day had started with dark clouds in the distance and created a scene that was so Colorado. That added to my vision. Left out in the middle of nowhere, I wondered how many times has this old truck been caught in the elements. We will never know, but this looks to be its last resting place, now a permanent part of the landscape. As the wind picked up, sheets of rain moved closer. Watching the approaching storm was pretty cool. I wish you could have seen it, too.
