This cold morning I stumbled across an open field of chopped down milkweed and scrubby poison ivy to reach a beautiful Maple specimen. I've painted this tree from afar many times but today the tree beckoned me to come closer.
(The photograph to the left is the same tree with me painting in the foreground taken by the Newburyport Daily News. 2014).
At its threshold, I went on through, side stepping fallen limbs, disentangling briars from my pant legs, parting low branches to arrive at the tree's interior. To my surprise this was a stand of several trees, disguised as one large tree creating one hugeness of single presence from afar.
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Everything within and under this umbrella of color glowed warmly; my blank canvas was sunflower yellow, tree trunks were buttery, crumbling cement posts marking an abandoned farm path were coated in sherbert. The morning's sunlight came pouring through the restless canopy of a tangerine, orange and lime leafy spectrum, Swirling at my feet dancing leaves, above my head an arched, multi-branched cathedral, and all around striking me endlessly were the colors of Natures stained glass.
As I painted, the trees richly colored leaves were fast falling by the tugs of snappy breezes. Falling like the sins of impatience, gluttony, pride. Soon these trees would be stripped of their majestic cloaks, no longer boastful. When the cold northern winds blow, they will stand open and leafless. Mindful of what can be.
