My dad was a busy man. George Bishop was known as one of the best farmers in Aroostook County, Maine. It seemed like he was always working and he worked at what he loved.

When he decided that it was time for me to ride my big new bicycle without training wheels – he removed them, put the bike on a slight hill and said, “Get on.” I was tall at age six, but not confident that I would do well. Of course, I ended up in the ditch. Dad had gone back to work in the barn. Had he seen my failure like the time I was studying the sky at the end of the wharf at our camp and in a few seconds I was gulping water?  My second try on the bike was a winner.

At age 12, Dad decided it was time for me to learn how to drive a vehicle. By this time, I was 5′ 7″ tall and lanky. The clutch and the gas peddle on the new Jeep Wagoneer would be manipulated by my size 10 feet. I took my Dad for a few bumpy starts until I got the hang of the standard transmission. (Dad did not get angry or criticize my performance.) Away we went…behind the barn, I followed the dirt road to the back pasture. I had successfully maneuvered the three gears and after I stopped, Dad showed me how to put it in reverse.  Then, to my horror, he got out of the jeep and directed me to take it by myself around the field. I tried to argue that I was not ready for that. But I remembered the bicycle lesson and gave it a try. I drove back to pick him up and managed not to run over him.

My mom had given me a set of several art books about master painters for Christmas. In the one about Van Gogh, I learned that he painted “en plein-air”  meaning outdoors. So, I set up my new tall easel (as I wrote in an earlier blog) and produced my first plein-air pastel of our home (pictured here.) Next, I put the easel, a 16″ x 20″ canvas, my oil paints and brushes in a large wooden box in the jeep and headed for the back pasture.  By now, I was a good driver and since Dad drove a pick-up, I was free to use the Jeep anytime.  No one was  seen painting outdoors in northern Maine, not to mention, a twelve year old driving on 450 acres of farm land. I parked the jeep so that I could set up my easel at the rear of the vehicle and use the open tail gate as a seat. With the three horses, Dusty, Taffy and King in the pasture nearby – flying insects became an issue.  It annoyed me that  I had to keep removing them from the wet oil paint on my canvas.  Never-the-less, the painting on the right (pictured here) is the result of that painting excursion.

My mom started her own business of raising dogs in 1958. Her ingenuity and fearlessness was a great example for me. My Dad always gave me a push when the time was right. His love of the land inspired me to see the beauty in it which I tried to transcribe into my artwork.