Archive for August, 2009

Carving called “Home away from home”

In Dedication to My Father, John P. Bartholomew

As a child growing up in the small, rural farming community of Fayette, Utah, I learned the trades of farming and livestock from my father, John P. Bartholomew.  I developed a great love of the animals when I was very young.  I personally didn’t care much for the farming part.  The alfalfa crop was beginning new growth and needed to be irrigated.  The bailed hay had to be out of the fields and put up as rapidly as possible to get ready for the next crop.  I am grateful to have had that experience but spending my summers from before daylight until well after dark hauling hay with my Dad and brothers was not my favorite thing to do.  It wasn’t until after I left home that Dad finally bought an automatic bail wagon.

Working with the sheep is what I enjoyed the most.  During the winter Dad would lease other farmers’ fields of various crops.  He would put the sheep in those fields, as well as in his own, so they could feed on the left-over beet tops, hay, corn or grain from the harvested fields.  During the winter, the sheep would be moved from field to field cleaning up each crop.  Eventually, the sheep would be moved to the low sagebrush covered hills west of town.  Then in the early spring the sheep would be moved into the lambing yards south of Fayette.

This is the time of the year that was most special to me.  The sheep were sheered and lambs were born.  Hundreds of them.  I loved watching the miracle of birth.  I loved watching the new born lamb get up on its wobbly legs and begin bouncing and playing around the corral.

However, the sheep were not all fun and play.  They were hard work, too.  Feeding, watering and taking care of so many sheep was full time work, but for some reason it was enjoyable to me.  Dad would always let my brothers and I bring the “bummer” lambs home to care for.  (These were the lambs that didn’t have a mother for some reason or another.)  We would raise them from a bottle until they were old and strong enough to be on their own and join the herd.

Shortly after the lambing season, the snow would begin to melt around the base of the mountains.  We would then trail the herd from the lambing yards to the spring range.  Dad and the herders hated this area.  There was never enough feed or water.  Dad would have to haul water to the sheep every day.  As the days became warmer and the feed scarcer, the sheep became restless.  The herders were constantly fighting the sheep because they wanted to move to the upper summer range where there was plenty of green grass and cool water.  Mom said that when I was really young I had referred to the trip to Cedar Mountain as, “the road to no return.”

The way I remember it, on July 1^st, we would turn the sheep loose and the herd would head for the upper mountain, called Clear Creek.  We would begin the two day trail following along behind the herd, pushing the young lambs through the thick oak brush.  We would trail the sheep up across the rugged mountain while Dad pulled the sheep camp around the mountain and back up the rough old, dirt…or usually this time of year, muddy road.  Depending on how many times Dad became stuck and depending on how long it took to get himself unstuck, would determine how far we would beat him to the camp spot on this last leg of the sheep drive.

In the old days, before my time, the sheep men would put a tent and other belongings on a pack horse.  They would then be able to follow along with the sheep.  They would stop every night to reset their camp, cook their meals and roll out their bedding.  When sheep camps where invented, they were much more convenient, but they also had their drawbacks.

I have had many fond memories connected to Clear Creek camp.  As an adventurous young boy, after we arrived with the sheep to the clearing, I didn’t want to sleep while waiting for Dad so I would either walk or would ride my horse up to the cabin that was about ½ mile east of the camp site.  The cabin was never locked, back then, and was stocked with all kinds of fun things that young active boys like.  If I was hungry, and at that age I usually was, I would take a can of peaches or something similar, and a fishing pole and head for the beaver pond that wasn’t too far away.  I would eat my peaches and fish for a couple of hours until Dad arrived with the sheep camp.  He would set up the camp, carefully leveling it, and then would prepare dinner which usually consisted of sour dough, mutton and fried potatoes.  YUM YUM, the best!

The Clear Creek Camp is depicted in this representation.  This art work is carved on a piece of wood that was cut from timber of a fallen tree which used to be a prominent land mark a half mile north of Fayette when I was growing up.  Even though it has some cracks and imperfections, it has special meaning to me.  This is the same wood used to carve a depiction of the Manti Temple which hangs in the Bartholomew Fayette home.  (Which Dad really likes.)

The sheep camp carving is of a crisp, early morning at the Clear Creek Camp.  The sun would come up over the top of Molly’s Nipple and would glisten through the new green leaves on the quaky trees beginning to warm the surroundings.  The depicted cabin is a real cabin, privately owned.  It cannot be seen from this particular camp spot, and in reality is turned facing the opposite direction.  It is a major land mark to the local folks.

The sheep camp was a safe, dry place to call home when you were away from home.  I have many fond memories of times spent with my Dad in the mountains at the sheep camp.  The moments on the mountain when I could go with my Dad made the long, hot summer days in the hay fields worth it.

Thanks Dad, for teaching me how to work.  Thanks for the sweet memories.  Thanks for your love of the animals and mountains that you have inherited to me.

Carving of:

MY LITTLE TOWN

In June 2008 I was approached by the Mayor of Fayette, Scott Bartholomew, to see what the possibilities were of doing a carving to hang in the new town hall.  We discussed many different possibilities to carve, He handed me some old photographs from the town’s archives.  We started taking pictures around town and this is what we came up with.  The original piece is 10′ wide by 4′ tall and hangs in the town hall in the City of Fayette, UT.  To view the full piece click on the picture to the right.

The story is as follows:

Oxen Exchange

In the spring of 1861 my great, great grandfather Joseph Bartholomew and James Mellor were asked by Brigham Young to move their families to the warm creek area of Sanpete co, later called Fayette.  Upon arrival, they found that the Indians claimed ownership of the spring, which was to be the life line of the valley.  They soon made peace with Chief Arropene and Joseph Bartholomew traded 2 fat oxen for the spring.  Later the meadows below the spring were bought for 2 calves.

Bartholomew Home

When the Bartholomew’s and Mellor’s first arrived at the spring, their homes were earthen dug outs with hardened dirt floors.  In 1870 Joseph Bartholomew started construction of his new home.  This home was made of red sandstone, quarried in the hills just southeast of town.  The walls of the home were 18” thick.  The original home has been remolded several times but is still standing.  My Father John P. Bartholomew and Kathleen Day Bartholomew are living in that 138 year old home today.

My great grand Father, John Bartholomew served as the ward Bishop from 1874 to 1914.  It was customary for the traveling Brethren of the church to stay with the Bishops along the way.  On one occasion, Wilford Woodruff, President of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, was staying at the Bartholomew home.  He was in the upstairs bedroom for the evening when a rider from Salt Lake caught up with him to inform him of John Taylor’s death.  I have a hand written page from Wilford Woodruff’s journal explaining the anguish he felt as he felt the mantel of the Prophet fall up on him that night in Bishop Bartholomew’s home.

School House

The old school house, even though modern for the times, had no running water or bathroom facilities.  For a period of time, Philo T Farnsworth (the inventor of the Television) was living with my Grand Parents and teaching school in this old school house.   At the time Mr. Farnsworth was living with the family, my father was born in this old home.  Grandma and Grandpa were so impressed with Mr. Farnsworth that they named my dad, John Philo, after Mr. Farnsworth.

When the towns’ children began being transported to the neighboring town, Gunnison to attend school, the old school became a meeting house for the church.  This is where I attended church as a youth.

The old school bell would ring for special occasions.  It could be rung from a rope pulled inside the building.  On really special occasions the boys and girls from town would climb up the tree to get on top of the roof and ring the bell, especially, very early in the morning of the 4^th and 24^th of July, (waking up the whole town).  Even though the old school house has been torn down now, the old school bell has a new home sitting on top a monument in front of the new church.

When the footings were being dug for the new town hall, the footings of the old school house were found again.

The horizon of this carving depicts the actual mountain scene as it is today, the prominent rugged rock ledges of Mellor’s Canyon, to the north east, the Caterpillar Mountain Range directly east of town and the Molly’s Nipple peeking through the lower hills capping off the skyline to the south.

Around the parameter, bordering the carving, is a replica of each of the brands that have been registered to the residents of Fayette.

Geese

Today as you visit my little town of Fayette you will see the fields of corn and hay that are being watered by the warm spring.  Down below town is the Northern end of the Sevier River as it empties in the Yuba Reservoir, and if you watch you may see some cattle in the fields.  If you are really lucky you may even see some deer coming up into the fields to feed from the tamarack covered river bottoms.  The music that you will hear is not the hustle and bustle of a city life, but the honking of the resident geese.  There are quite a few geese that call Fayette home year round, but during the fall the skies and fields are full of the sights and sounds of the geese.  When asked where home is, I have to refer to my little town.

Steve’s roots run deep when it comes to wildlife and the great outdoors. His love and admiration for all types of wildlife developed at a very early age. It wasn’t often enough that he was able to sneak away from the hard work demanded by farm life, but when the chance did arise, Steve found himself in the nearby forest. He would study the animals, often seeing just how close he could get to them.

Soon after graduating from SUSC, Steve started his own cabinet shop where he has enjoyed working with his hands building custom, high end cabinets and furniture for the last 30 years.

By combining his passion for the great outdoors, with his superb ability to make people’s dreams come to life in wood – Steve now produces unique, one-of-a-kind original works of art in wood. Some of his recent projects include custom gun stocks, wooden stands for taxidermy mounts, wall murals and custom electrical plate covers.

“The good Lord has blessed me with the ability to take people’s ideas and develop them into works of art. Sometimes it’s a piece of furniture, maybe just a wall hanging, or even a full kitchen.”

“It is my dedication to building cabinets the old fashion way, with modern technology, that I have coined the phrase “Artist in Wood”.