Early one late summer morning, the fog lays a blanket across the hills. Deeply quiet and still, a soft glow rises from the east. Drawn by the mystery behind this veil, I silently step out into the mist. I stop, entranced by a grove of pine. Totem trunks lift my gaze, the canopy hovers high above, the undergrowth is green moss, grass and sprays of wild flowers.
Each tree a sentinel, guardians at the gate standing ground, digging deep, roots reaching beyond the surface seen. Standing at the base/feet of these trees, I lean my hand on the cool, rough bark. I sense the pulse of connection with these beauties. Grounded, I listen, breathe in. A whisper fills the air on my exhale, we are in conversation, witnessing the presence of each other.
Symbiotic as in all of nature, each takes care of its own, and by this takes care of the others. Holders of histories, trees mark time in rings of growth. Each ring holds the resonance of earthly evolution and human events. Histories stored, stories told, new growth foreshadowing stories to come.
Witness, a series in both print and artist book,” invites us to enter in and be present, to be amongst these trees and feel their presence.” connect and protect.
