To an outsider, trees are silent, but really their songs never cease (John Muir). As I sit drawing one of these wonderful beings, I feel the tree is looking back at me. I never feel alone. It’s as though a message is sent out; their natural beauty passes on a sanity and kindness that I, not to mention the rest of the world, sorely need.
When I first look at the woods, it seems chaotic, but then the trees lead me in and the composition unfolds. These leafy sculptures project into space cutting the sky into shapes, weaving branches and trunks and foliage into rhythms of patterns.
Above, below, inside the trees are bees and owls, lizards and fungus, shade and clouds. These woods are so strong and yet so fragile. This world we selfishly need for our own peace of mind; this world we need to unselfishly share.