I was 4 years old when Mt. St. Helens blew. My parents and I were camping in the Blue Mountains in Oregon, about 200 miles away as the crow flies, and ash from the eruption settled down on our camp. We listened to the news on the portable radio as the reports came in.
Today’s the 41st anniversary of that eruption, and I don’t know why I was thinking of it, but this painting came out of that.
