24x30 inches plein air
This was the largest plein air I attempted in Texas. When I walked into town I passed a salvage yard that had been there before I was born. I noticed the light on the old cars every time I passed. One day I saw it as I merged onto the highway from a smaller road. People usually don't park under Mimosa trees. 
It finally hit me why I kept looking at the old '49 Cadillac with fondness. My father had owned one. He liked to drive on Sunday's. We would go to visit his mother. He and my mother had struggled all their lives living through the Great Depression with small children and then World War II. I came late after the war and for many years he had no car. Sometimes we drove to where the new lake near Dallas was filling up and covering the trees slowly. A giant spillway was at one end and fish occasionally tumbled over it. Catfish as big as fifty pounds and even though that sounds like something a Texan would say, it was true.
One morning when I was fourteen it was raining and he liked to drive me to school when it rained. He left work and I hopped in the car. I was a large lad even then. We never talked. I think he was just glad I made good grades and was not already an alcoholic like my oldest brother was at that age. He dropped me at school and went back to work.
About two hours later the superintendent of the school called me out of class. Mr. Birdwell was a very stern man who had been in the Pacific theatre in the war. He carried a flame thrower against the enemies who bivouacked in the tunnels on the islands. He administered the paddle. Two of my best friends were already with him. 
He said without preamble, "Bobby, your dad just dropped dead." My friends held my arms and I leande into them.