My REALLY BIG Fish Story

"At the Rivers Bend"- 16 x 20 Original Acrylic

You reach a certain age in your life and you find it interesting how an activity that you did as a child maybe a handful of times becomes such an important part of you memories.  It's those good times that stand out among the mundane.  That is what this whole "Down Country Roads" collection has been for me.  A journey back to my country roots and it is this passion for a simpler life that drives me to keep painting this theme.

Back in the 60's and 70's there just wasn't the entertainment for small children that we have today.  No toys of every shape, size and color or videos, game systems, smart phones or tablets to pass the hours in overstimulated technological euphoria.  No, in my childhood, entertainment was something you had to create yourself with your own imagination and meager surroundings of sticks, leaves, rocks and acorns.  I can only recall one real family vacation that had actually had a destination that didn't end in Western Kansas and my granny's house.  So spending a day on the river once in a while with my family and particularly with my grandmother was something that very much stands out in my memory.

There was a particular spot that was a family favorite to fish on the Gasconade River and high above on the cliffs was a large cave that contained a great number of bats.  As the sun dropped down below the trees and the night creatures began to stir, the bats would begin to fly out of the cave to hunt the abundance of bugs that flew around the water.  They were aerial acrobats that would dive bomb the river and give quite a show with their athletic skills.  Their sonar abilities however weren't able to detect the fishing lines and often they would hit your line as they skimmed the surface of the river.  This was absolutely thrilling to me and was almost as exciting as catching that big fish

The activity of fishing has always held a special place in my life even if I haven't got to fish in years.  As a child, growing up in Missouri, fishing the river for catfish was one of my favorite things to do mostly because I associated it with my dear grandmother.  I was her fishing buddy from a very young age.  I could sit with her quietly for hours adoring all the special attention I received from her.  It was just the two of us and the river waiting to see who could catch the biggest fish.  I wish I had a picture of her and I sitting together and I would paint that right into my very next piece.


So this morning I put on my creative hat and started writing a verse about some of the highlights a true fisherman goes through when trying to "Hook the Big One".  Let me know if you can relate to my "fishing is the greatest therapy" comparison.  It is the one time that my mind shuts off to everything else and my FULL attention is given to the gentle flow of the water current and the possibility of all those fish hidden below the surface just getting ready to check out that fat juicy worm.  How about you?

"The Fishing Hole"- 11 x 14 Original Acrylic

The Fishing Hole

by

Julie Townsend

Here you sit at your favorite fishing hole

Most times it’s more like a giant wishing hole

You’ve known for years this is where the big one swims

If you could only hook him as the light fades and dims

You dream of the struggle it will take to reel him in

You can almost hear the slap on the water of tail and fin

Pulled down far on your brow is your lucky hat

Grooves in the ground from the years your folding chair has sat

Your hook is loaded with your favorite bait

There is nothing for you to do now but to sit and wait

The old tackle box is packed to the brim and ready

Your pole and reel are in your hand held steady

Time seems to stand still for just a moment

Nothing can come between you and your underwater opponent

The cares of the world all fade from sight

Everyone knows that fishing is therapy to get your head right

A folding chair is way cheaper than a therapist couch

And the few hours at the river bank will always straighten your slouch

Today everything is in that perfect place

After all catching fish is certainly no race

Covered from head to toe in sticky mosquito spray

Hoping it will keep those little blood suckers away

Swatting flies that insist on landing on the tip of your nose

While keeping a close eye on the ants crawling around your toes

These are the payments and dues you must pay

To sit here dreaming of the BIG ONE on such a perfect day

Not Another Fishing Story

This week I painted two pieces really that took me down memory lane to my childhood growing up in Central Missouri.  My dear grandmother lived in a tiny community called Swedeborg that had a total population of about 300 I think and we lived there with her several times.  I would also visit and stay with her for weeks at a time.    As with many that lived there, fishing and hunting were a cheap source of entertainment and an activity that many of the residents enjoyed.  My grandmother adored fishing and since I adored my grandmother, fishing was a favorite activity for me growing up.  

"The Fishing Hole"  11x14 Acrylic

I decided to paint “The Fishing Hole” because the reference photo I was using had such great contrast between the sunny bank and the opposite shadowed river bank.  Partially through my painting I got excited when I decided to make my focal point and old forked stick left by some fisherman to hold his pole.   Now my grandmother would never prop up her pole because  part of the whole experience was to hold the rod in such a way that your right thumb had the fishing line resting across it as it came out of the reel.  This gave you the ability to "feel" the fish when they began to nibble at your bait rather than just watching the end of your pole.  If you felt that little tugging on the line you were to jerk your pole upward in hopes of hooking that fish before he discovered your hook.  

I have so many childhood memories connected to this simple activity.  Camping with my family where the Roubidoux joins the Gasconade River in Pulaski County near Waynesville, Missouri.  I can still hear my grandmother calling me her "little fishing buddy" as we sat on the shore for hours on end.  Come evening you could look up on the high ledge above the river and watch as the bats began to fly out of the *Roubidoux Cave.  They would dart around the river looking for their evening meal and I was amazed at their sonic radar abilities yet they often couldn't detect the fishing line and would fly into it. Having those bats flying into your fishing line was both thrilling and frightening at the same time.  My grandmother would tell me stories of men digging guano out of the cave.  Being scared of heights I would sit and stare up at that cave and wonder how anyone could be so brave as to try to climb up there; guano or no guano.

Most children can't sit still these days but if you wanted to be a good fisherman you had to be both still and quiet or you would be rebuked for "Scaring" the fish.  Needless to say that even at my young age I could sit there still as could be enjoying every minute spent whispering with my grandmother and imagining all the BIG ones".  I can't recall any particular birthday gifts I received in my childhood years with the exception of one.  My 9th birthday I was given my very own fishing pole.

My 9th Birthday and a Fishing Rod and Reel all my own!

"At the Rivers Bend"- 16x20 Acrylic

As it is with many of the painting I complete, I find that I make an emotional connection with it as I'm working on it.  Right away it became apparent that it was important for me to give this piece a story.    I could imagine this perfect little spot along this river to spend an afternoon with your favorite rod and a good book or in my case a sketch pad.  Both of these pieces will be available on my website at JulieTownsendStudio.com so be sure and use the link to check them out.

*ROUBIDOUX CAVE (19)

In a vertical bluff overlooking the junction of Roubidoux Creek and the Gasconade River is a cavern with a high, wide entrance giving access to a large chamber which has several smaller but well-lighted rooms opening into it. There was formerly a considerable depth of earth on the rock bottom, but most of it has been taken out for fertilizer. What is left is dry near the entrance, but wet farther in. Although it would make an ideal Indian home, being easy of access and within a few rods of the two streams, there could be found no indications of such habitation; and owing to the small amount of earth remaining, the presence of many large rocks, and the close proximity of a large club house on the public highway immediately in front, no excavation is possible.  A cairn on the point of the cliff over this cave has been completely demolished. (Fowke) (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/18931/18931-h/18931-h.htm)