|"Telegraph Canyon," 5x5in., oil on masonite|
Near us are the normally bone dry hills of Chino Hills, though I went in the other day and on account of the rain, it looked surprisingly olive, sprinkled with gold and ruby.
I didn't see the promised coyotes or bobcats but I did feel, creepily, eyes on me. Someone told me that the beasts are hungry at this time of year and descend the peaks in search of grub, so I was doubly on the alert. Someone also told me that if I was really worried, which I was, to wear a Halloween mask on backwards so that I wasn't pounced on from behind, but come on, I don't want to get shot or appear in the papers either.
This angle, interestingly, is from Telegraph Canyon, where wires whipped through past cows and goats and put the Pony Express mail service out of business.
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