June 9th in the Black Hills ...
Pard all I remember, twas a cold som-bitch
by Bob Coronato
This was a day Id been waiting for since I was a kid, says cowboy artist Bob Coronato about his latest release. Coronato relates the genesis for this piece, based on his experience working on a ranch on the border of South Dakota and Wyoming. I was there to help the Foreman, a colorful, tough old man of few words, move cows to their summer pasture. We got up at 4:30 a.m. and my friend George suggested I wear my heavy winter gear. Since it was 75 degrees the day before, I thought he was pulling a prank. I decided not to take a chance and brought the gear. I saddled up my horse, which was bucking and kicking to shake out the cold.
Hoping to get a good view of the thousands of cows snaking up the limestone canyon, I went to the front and took a small bunch ahead to point the rest of the herd. The temperature dropped as we got higher into the mountains and the rain turned to large wet flakes covering the canyon walls. As the cows were heating up, steam started to rise off their backs until billowing clouds rose up through the canyon like a train puffing through the Black Hills. I was glad I had my slicker and wild rag around my neck as the snow turned into a blizzard. I sat tucked up under a pine tree branch listening to the flakes through the trees, hoping Id never forget a detail of this amazing day. As the snow collected on my hat and the black dye ran down my back, I couldnt wait to paint this scene, unfolding before my eyes. With about ten inches of snow on the ground, George and I rode up the side of the herd yelling this is the life for me!
|
Bob Coronato
