by AIC Artist Russel Thomas
I was raised in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in the town of Nevada City from an age of 8 to 19 years old. I was lucky enough to have the foothills of these mountains in my backyard. I love to choose to recall memories of this time of my life to create this piece of art.
I thought of how the rolling storms move down through the mountains. The yellow lightning cracked through the clouds, causing the cascade of raindrops to fill the lakes, rivers and streams. After the storms, the rivers would clear into pools of cool, crisp water swirling from large and small waterfalls. These were alive with rainbow, German-brown, and brook trout, gliding among the roots and boulders of massive granite.
In the 1800’s, the 49er miners filled the landscape of these majestic mountains, digging the earth for precious gold. In doing so, they left rustic ghost towns, camps and cabins to tell a rich story of their lives. As a young boy, I grew up amid this richness.
I remember so well sitting on the massive stones carved from the mountains, created by God and feeling blessed in the happiness of it all. I would listen to the sounds of the water falling over and around the trees, rocks and old wooden water wheels still struggling against the time when they would be no more than the memories of the boy I was.
Gentle ripples over stone, gurgling, swishing brooks and surging falls,. The sound of water. Summer raindrops hitting leaves patter through my mind and the summer thunder echoes from the past.
Then the pleasant smell of pine trees permeates the air, moving with the aroma of sweet cedar. All these scents mixed with wild violets, roses and the rich smell of berries, all nestled among the blankets of pine needles.
Simple pleasures of God’s creation swarm to my heart and make me smile. They fill me with strength of heart and hope immeasurably. All this from the sound of water. Listen, and you can hear it too.
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