Another nostalgic painting inspired by a photo of my father and grandfather, c. 1980. At that time we liked to camp at a place called "Dog Hill", which the family named unofficially. These names stuck naturally, probably getting sealed by a simple conversation, when grandpa, trying to clarify a spot he was discussing "You know, where we camped a few weeks ago with the dog."
The other great place to camp was "Rabbit Ridge", again named unofficially. That would have been named very long ago, but probably due to a similar exchange-- "You know, that ridge where the rabbit hunting is so good..." This area of the Wyoming high desert is so sparsely populated, even names are rare, requiring unofficial names to describe vast areas.
The trailer in the painting was my immediate family's, used very much during the 1970s. It was a 1950s Shasta, a classic. The interior woodwork of these trailers endears them to fans. The pickup camper on the left still exists, my uncle having used it as a hut when he built a cabin near Medicine Bow about 10 years ago. The last time I saw it one of the windows had blown out--shucks! The elements take their toll out there.
