DIY Photo Framing on a Wooden "Canvas"

I know, it's been ages, and I do have lots of stories to tell you, but first a how to!

I've been doing yet more painting around the house and as I stare at my newly painted walls, their sad lack of artwork has been getting to me. I've been trying to figure out how to get something cool on the walls without breaking the bank when Pinterest came to my aid.

I found a little instruction on different kinds of mounting techniques and things related to engineering prints, but they don't seem to be as inexpensive where I live as the original posters have noted. Instead, whilst staring at a skinny blank section of wall, it struck me that there was a picture I wanted to put there and that the best way it would fit would be on a piece of scrap wood that was languishing in the garage.

I pulled out the 9" x 24" piece of plywood, eyed the spot and the idea all came together. For you, my step by step plan, with photos.

You will need:

• scrap wood
• ModPodge or other glue for decoupage
• paint
• paint or foam brushes
• scissors
• photo
• measuring tape
• sanding block
• rags
• pencil
• picture hangar and a nail
• level
• needle-nose pliers
• hammer

The piece of plywood I chose wasn't quite true on one side, so I had Eric give it a tiny trim.

After that, I sanded it down on the edges and the front side where I would be gluing the photograph. It doesn't have to be perfection, but splinter free is nice. You don't want anything poking you as you're smoothing your image down.

I wiped down the board with a clean rag and painted the edges. You could paint the entire board, but since the photo is going to cover the entire front side and the back will never be visible once it's hung, that seemed like a waste of time and paint.

After the paint was dry, I unrolled my photo to check out how much trimming it would require. I had it printed as a 20" x 30" poster (a standard size available at Costco) and then cut it down to 9" x 24" (a decidedly non-standard size). I trimmed it on my cutting mat with a rotary cutter and then switched to scissors as I got closer to the image.

Once almost all of the white space was cut away, I pulled out the ModPodge and slapped a coat onto the plywood face that I had sanded down and a coat onto the back of the photograph. I carefully laid the photo down onto the wood and smoothed it out carefully, to ensure there were no bubbles under the photo.

After I let that dry for about an hour, I used more ModPodge to coat the front of the photograph. I used all vertical strokes for the first layer. After that dried, a couple hours later I added a second layer of glue perpendicular to the first layer. The glue dries clear and forms a protective layer over your photo and will give it a matte look.

The next day, I picked up a self leveling hangar and hammered it down. You may need a pair of needle-nose pliers to hold the tiny nail in place, unless you have skinny, tiny fingers. You can use any hanging device you'd like, but my board weighed just under 3lbs and since I didn't want it to slide off the wall, I went with a heavy duty hangar.

Be sure to place something cushion-like under the photo when you go to hammer the hangar into place or you may nick your image. I grabbed Emma's blanket since it was begging to help.

Then it was time to pound a nail into the wall and hang that bad boy up.

I made sure to sign the back and wrote down that this image was of Igor Mitoraj’s “Tyndareus Cracked” from the Boboli Gardens in Florence, Italy, when Eric and I went for our 10th anniversary trip in May of 2006. It only took me six years to finally print it.

Since that turned out so well, I know what I'll be doing with the big blank wall when you walk in the front door. I see a series of large black and white photos hanging there. Maybe six? I might even use the thinner 1/4" plywood so it will be even lighter and easier to hang.

Total out of pocket cost? $11. The print was $9 (plus tax) and the hangar was a dollar and change. Everything else I already had on hand. I also learned that if you want to make your own ModPodge, all you need is equal parts Elmer's glue and water, shaken together in a jar. Clearly I'm going to need a lot once I start gearing up for 20" x 30" images!

Now to find some more pictures to print!

Staring at Pronghorn

In case you didn't know, it's pronghorn hunting season here in Colorado. It's only 9 days long, so it's possible that hunters who eagerly desire a pronghorn trophy might be willing to trespass onto private preserve land. And if you want to keep them off your land, you need to watch over your land and gently remind those eager hunters that there are signs posted all around the property clearly stating that No Hunting is allowed.

If your best friend asked you to run off to Pritchett, CO to go stare at bison, pronghorn, hawks, prairie dogs, and hunters, you'd say "Yes!", wouldn't you?

I did.

But then, we already knew that I'm a sucker.

And so, off we went, gallivanting across the countryside to protect property rights and migrating herds of pronghorn.

On the way in to the Bison Ranch,

we passed The Hut. I didn't take the time to photograph it last time, but made certain to this time around. Creepy, no?

Its decrepit nature will only continue to worsen as the vagaries of wind and weather attack it relentlessly over time. Nothing good ever happens here. Do Not Enter.

After driving for hours and not seeing any pronghorn, we were starting to wonder if we would ever see a single one during our trip or if we were going to have to ask for a do-over. Pronghorn?! What pronghorn!

Then, pounding away from us in the distance, we saw a small herd of about 11 - 12.

Turns out that their brown/tan/cream coloration means they blend in really well with the dry grasses and scrub on the prairie. You don't really notice them until they start to move. At one point, Misty mistook an entire field of baled hay for a large herd as we were driving past. A very still herd.

At the ranch, we hung out and chatted about pronghorns, wolves, and politics. Suddenly, Misty yelled at me to come outside and have a look at the sky.

That night, at that moment, the sky looked like this:

Incredible. Awe inspiring. Fantastic.

Freezing cold.

It's an incredible experience that you just can't get down in the city. Even on top of Flagstaff Mountain outside of Boulder, you still have to deal with light pollution. Here, however, there are no lights and few houses, separated by miles of scrub and critter filled space. What I can't properly share with you in these photos is that behind the shivering photographer there came the sound of a pack of coyotes, howling into the distance. How far the distance was I don't know, but I was hoping they weren't making designs on my haunches.It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up and reminded me why humans like caves, huts, and houses.

Just as I felt that I was finally getting the hang of night sky shots, my frozen hands and numb fingers forced me to stop for awhile and warm up. By the time I returned, the sky was completely clouded over, just as if someone had pulled a big woolly blanket across the plains. It was impossible to see a single star at that point and made me very glad that I had taken as many pictures as I had before going inside. It also made me wonder why I didn't have a flashlight, because a night on the plains without a moon is very, very, very dark.

Instead of the cabin, which appeared to be overrun with mice, we decided to sleep in the pop-up camper that Nicole had brought. An unheated pop-up camper, in a two person sleeping bag, in long underwear, PJs, two pairs of socks, a hat and a warm and fuzzy blanket. It was a little chilly that night, you see. Fortunately for me, Misty was like a roaring fire at my back and kept me toasty warm, in addition to all the other layers I was wearing. After giggling and shivering in our double sleeping bag (Misty is incredibly cuddly.), we finally settled down and fell asleep to the sound of the wind ruffling the camper's canvas sides.

In the morning, after waking up three hours later than planned, we got ready to go stare at the plains, wild animals, and watch for trespassing hunters. The plan was for Misty and I to take note of license plates of hunters in the wrong and phone them into the local Wildlife rangers. However, as it turned out, most of our time was spent sitting the in cold car and watching hunters drive around aimlessly looking for public lands to hunt on, miles and miles away from us. The preserves we were protecting are checker-boarded with private ranch land and public grazing grasslands, so it's easy to get confused as to where you can and cannot hunt. However, the pronghorn weren't abundant, so we'd see more trucks than ungulates. As far as calling it hunting goes, it didn't seem very sportsmanlike to me. Instead of having to trek into the woods, set up a base camp, create blinds or hide in trees and wait for your prey, pronghorn hunters get to drive around the vast grid that makes up the South Eastern portion of Colorado on dirt roads, stop when they finally see something and then shoot it. Even fishing has more of a mystery to it than that.

I also discovered that you can hear gunshots from very far away on the prairie. There's nothing but gently rolling scrub and distance to muffle the sound. It's also incredibly quiet out there, except for the sound of the local wildlife. No engine noises, no people, no equipment. Just wind, birds, prairie dogs, and the occasional insect. It's very soothing. Very zen.

A hawk and crow appear to be playing together, circling in the air.

A hawk sits on a pole and contemplates its next meal of prairie dog.

The Lone Prairie

Someone ate all of the sunflower seeds.

The colors are beautiful and make me think in terms of paint chips. You could make a really nice room with lime green, chocolate brown, cream, and tan.

Yes, something big clearly died here.

All of the most fashionable environmentalists are wearing Blaze Orange this year.

Plants are still blooming. 

Prairie dog having a snack. 

This p-dog thinks we might want to eat it. Maybe if I were a little hungrier.... 

We were getting ready to head back home and were making our way back to the ranch when Misty stopped the car abruptly. There, on the left side of the road was a single pronghorn. (Or perhaps it was married. I dunno, since I didn't ask.)

The Lone Pronghorn.

After taking a few shots (with our cameras!), we crept the car closer to it. My 70-200mm lens just isn't cutting it for wildlife photography. Clearly I should rent a big prime! The prongie decided it needed to hie itself home and trotted over to the other side of the road and ducked under the fence.

Pronghorns go under fences, not over. Strange but True Tales from the Prairie. 

The fact that we got to see the pronghorn actually walking under a fence was great, because I was honestly having a hard time believing that these deer-like critters didn't just jump every fence they came across. Turns out they aren't as sproingy as deer and it's the best reason why the bottom wire on prairie fences should be smooth instead of barbed.

Once it was on the other side, it turned back to us to watch us closely. Very curious was this ungulate. 

Having successfully survived this close encounter with humans, it took off at a trot to find some friends and maybe a mate.

As I mentioned last time, Colorado is a fence OUT state, which means if you don't want cattle on your land, it's up to you to keep them off of your property by putting up fences all along your borders. It also means you're very likely to run into them on the road.

Young cattle with winter coats look all soft and pettable. Also a bit daft.

Just try not to do it literally. Cattle will seriously mess up your ride.

Bison, on the other hand, will utterly destroy your ride and wreck your life, should you piss them off whilst trying to pass them in your suddenly completely inadequately safe vehicle.  I highly recommend stopping and waiting for them to move.

"You shall not pass...easily!"

Or creeping up to them really really slowly and encouraging them to get out of the way.

"Where are you goin'?"

Perhaps if you offered them a sacrificial hunk of gluten free zucchini bread they might be tempted to move out of the way faster.

Staring contest winner: Number 45!

No? Then you're going to have to do the best you can to get past them without somehow pissing them off.

Safety tip: Do not enrage the bison.

I also highly recommend that you don't forget your glasses on the bathroom sink, thus requiring you to drive through the herd of semi-unpredictable (Prediction: They will get in the way. True! Prediction: They will get out of the way. Possibly!) bison a total of four times instead of the two it would have taken originally. Although I was quite amused listening to Misty hyperventilate over just how BIG they were and how CLOSE they were and how utterly SURROUNDED we were by a dozen or more two ton animals. Well entertained, but you should know that I had my window rolled up tight. Bison kisses aren't on my Bucket List, you see.

Then, not-so-suddenly, we were no longer surrounded by giant shaggy beasts and were on our way home.

Gunshots heard: 5
Interactions with hunters: limited entirely to waving in a friendly fashion.
Trespassers evicted: Zero for Misty and I, Nicole snagged a few on her watch.
Close encounters with bovine: Six
Dogs acquired: Zero (But it was a very close thing, because Misty is a sucker.)
Fun memories acquired: Tons!

The six or seven hour drive out and back again was spent with almost non-stop talking, laughing, joking, and being completely inappropriate in ways I won't share. Misty has threatened to bring a recording device next time just so she has a record of how completely ridiculous I can get when cooped up in a car.

Ruh-dick-uh-luss. I'm tellin' you!

And just so you know: when you want to have an adventure, I am the friend you call.

Adventures on the Colorado Prairie

In early May, my girlfriend Misty asked me to run away with her for the weekend, go camping, and fix barbed wire fences.

Of course I had to say yes. Who would refuse such an invitation?! Run off to the middle of no where in South East Colorado? Volunteer to spend 2 1/2 days exposed to the sun, wind, stars and possibly rattlesnakes? Sleep on the ground, grungy and unwashed? Develop calluses and play tetanus tag?

OMG! YES!

She had volunteered to go fix fences for an organization she is a part of and suddenly thought of who else she knew that might be interested in going with her when she realized that I was the perfect sucker friend to ask. It took me all of 2 minutes to think it over and after verifying that Eric would be okay with being abandoned with the mini horde, I joyfully called her back and gushed, "Yes!"

We began the trip on a bright and sunny Friday afternoon, went grocery shopping to ensure that we'd have the bare minimum of food in case the folks we'd be hanging out with were only supplying food filled with Misty-poison (Gluten). After gathering supplies and many gallons of water, we headed East on our new adventure.

Alone.

Together.

Without the children.

Without the husbands.

Without any need to be anywhere but exactly where we were: together and driving off into the distance, laughing and talking and talking and giggling and being terribly rude, crude and silly just as we pleased.

Without interruption. For six hours.

If you have children, you know how incredible that experience is - to be all alone and have uninterrupted conversation. To do it with your best friend? Fan-freakin'-tastic! The time just flew. Even with stopping at two different grocery stores (And having been followed by a fellow shopper from one to the next...Creepy.) and assorted gas stations, becoming temporarily displaced (For the record we were never "lost", just temporarily displaced!) and finally finding our destination, it really only seemed as if we were driving for an hour. Amazing.

The place we were staying was a buffalo ranch in the middle of no where.

The road to no where.

Click to enlarge the photos. You won't regret it!

We drove down miles and miles of dirt roads that only had numbers and letters. The GPS unit had no idea where we were in the vastness of the Colorado plains. The landscape didn't roll so much as it unfolded before us as we drove mile after mile away from all we knew.

After fretting about whether we'd have access to running water and a coffee pot (For Misty, of course. After all, I'm a tea person!), it turned out that there was an entire house on the ranch. However, since we came prepared to camp, we set up our tent off to the side and thanked our lucky stars that we wouldn't have to pee behind a cactus. At night. With coyotes howling in the near distance. In case you're wondering, trees are few and far between out on the plains, while there are plenty of cactus and yucca. Colorado is basically a desert plain with those measly 14" of rain per year, thus no respectable amount of cover for covert urinating.

You've been warned.

After getting our sleeping arrangements worked out, we hung about and traded stories with the other weekend volunteers. Gardening stories were exchanged. Volunteering credentials were presented. ("I'm here because of the blonde.") That night, Misty and I stayed up way later than we should have, giggling and thinking about how much we resembled our own daughters at sleepovers. It was the first time we'd ever had one together! Eventually, after staring up into the infinite night sky that bloomed with stars and a radiant moon, we finally slept.

Then, typical of an early Saturday morning, we woke to the roaring of a lawn mower.

Outside our tent.

What the bloody hell?!

It was our host's way of waking us all up in a...distinctive manner. Well, we did need to wake up early to get the fence repairs done before it got too hot....

After mental threats of unspecified violence, we organized ourselves, slathered on sunscreen and drove to an unremarkable stretch of land that sported sagging barbed wire fences. There we received fence repair and rattlesnake avoidance instructions.

That's right: rattlesnakes.

For the record, I was utterly disappointed that there were no rattlesnake encounters the entire weekend. We did almost run over a bull snake, but they aren't deadly poisonous and thus are disappointing for near-death-seeking fence repair teams. OK, maybe that was just me.

He blends nicely into the background, doesn't he? Watch your step!

Then, tools in hand, our host set us loose on a half mile stretch of sagging fence that needed to be taken down so that it could be repaired, re-stretched and re-attached.

Grab with pliers. Unwrap post clip from wire. Remove mangled clip. Drop wire. Repeat ad nauseum.

Misty shows us how it's done.

The work wasn't hard...repetitive tedious, yes, but made much more fun when chatting with Misty and the other volunteers as we leap-frogged one another down the fence line. Hours later, with hands beginning to cramp and considering blistering, I took advantage of Misty's recent concussion to declare we needed a shaded rest back at the ranch for lunch. It was hot and she was clearly fading, while turning bright red in the sun. The fact that I, too, wanted a break was totally beside the point! (Wink!)

After lunch, a whole lotta water and a short nap, we returned to the blistering heat of the late afternoon sun and reclipped all the fence we'd unclipped after it was all re-stretched, repaired and ready to go.

Yes, all of that fence.

We had a little excitement in the form of cattle from the neighboring ranch that were interested in snacking on the greener grass across the way (The grass really was greener since no grazing was allowed on the conservation land we were working on. It was long and luscious and apparently too tempting to miss for the bovine crowd that snuck in through an opening while we were off having lunch.). Our fearless leader chased them off her land with cowboy-like prowess. That's when I learned that Colorado is what they call a "fence out" state: if you don't want cattle noshing on your land, you put up a fence or deal with the consequences.

The snack bar is now closed!

Most of the cattle easily crossed the road and hooked up with the rest of the herd, however there was a pair that were dumber than a pair of old boots that took off on their own down the road. Only after watching us repair the fence and then back the car up several hundred feet away from them, did they feel safe enough to come back down the road towards the herd. First, though, they needed to check to see if the snack bar was still open.

Seriously! One of the two walked to where the opening had been and then looked over at the car in what appeared to be a bovine glare before they finally crossed back onto the neighbor's land and shuffled off to the rest of the buffalo.

(Sorry, I couldn't resist.)

That night, we had a full moon. The Super Moon, they said. Unfortunately, my photo doesn't do it justice at all. I blame my lack of previous nighttime photography experience.

I can attest to the fact that the night was incredibly bright in a way you can't experience within the city or suburb. Way out on the plains, where there aren't any other houses and light sources for miles and miles, it was huge, bright and stunning. The quiet of the evening wrapped around us; bugs hushed, birds made their last calls to one another, and the soft wind were the only sounds we heard aside from our own breathing.

That night the clouds rolled in and the wind picked up.

A lot.

So much so that it woke me up at 2 am to the sound of the tent flapping around us, and the tree above us creaking as the branches whipped back and forth. The light from the huge moon dispersed behind the thick clouds was so bright I could see everything clearly. I turned to Misty and suggested we might want to move indoors since sleeping under such conditions was impossible while also being somewhat dangerous should the weather get worse. She had to think about it for a bit and suggested that I could go in without her.

I reminded her that we were in this adventure together and that if she wasn't going to go then I certainly wasn't going without her. After she cogitated a bit more we agreed that we could weigh the tent down with gear from the car and take ourselves in out of the windstorm. For those of you unfamiliar with Colorado, we easily get 100 mph winds without having actual tornadoes tiptoeing over our heads, but being out on the plains it could have easily turned into a tornado. Staying outside just to tough it out just wasn't feasible. Inside we were quietly welcomed by our fearless, cattle chasing, leader. Turns out that we were the last ones to take refuge indoors. Heh!

The next day, after a few more hours of taking down and clipping back up barbed wire fences, we said our goodbyes and headed back home. This time, since we weren't in a rush to return to family, friends and all of those responsibilities we ran away from on Friday, we took our time and I took a few landscape shots.

It's been a long time since I've shot anything that wasn't short and related to me or a plant I grew in my own yard. I was worried that I'd lost my mojo. My chops are rusty, it's true, but they still appear to be there.

I present to you the barren beauty of the plains.

Yes, it's flat. Still not as flat as Kansas. 

This is the effect that rock gardeners want. 

So very flat and mostly featureless. 

Pointy devils. I don't plant cactus in my yard because I just know that I'll fall on it. 

I couldn't not photograph this after it immediately reminded me of Lois Lane's car in Superman. Now you know where it ended up. 

I love how big the sky is out here in Colorado. 

Mesas and yuccas. 

Scrub.

A quick picture of the intrepid explorers! 

Turns out that I like my prairie with more trees on it. Go figure. 

Turns out that cattle love yucca flowers like kids love ice cream.

Wild flowers on ungrazed land. 

You know you're way out there when you can stand in the middle of the road without fear of cars coming by any time soon. 

Giant hammer meets earth. How else did it get broken up that way?

A tree grows alone. 

As we drove home we declared our undying love for one another that we should repeat this adventure every year. While we won't necessarily repair fences every year, camping alone is definitely a must. Getting away from it all, even when you love all of "it" is a treat when you take one of your favorite people with you. Silly stories, new inside jokes, terrible food, good food, fabulous conversation, and uncertain outcomes are the stuff of a life well lived.

Even when there aren't any rattlesnake encounters.