Overview

For me, a tree is a person.

I could bring water to the base of a tree,
and nutrient to its soil,
and perhaps have some effect on its future.

But for the most part,
a tree is its own keeper.
Responsible for its continuance.
Vulnerable to the actions of others.
Assailable to the caprice of environment.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of light and water.
But the stream that feeds the roots
Will sometimes strip away the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill will bask in the sun under a clear blue sky,
but will later find itself
in the uncomfortable cross hairs
of a thunder storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage.
Some find themselves under power lines,
whose life and limb continue
at the pleasure of the utility company.

I have also observed trees at cliffs edge.
And some even who have taken root
somewhat over the edge,
bound to grow out as well as up,
and so live out their lives
somewhat perpendicular perhaps
to their own expectations.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe as to forever extinguish the life of ninety-nine out of a hundred,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Then there are those for whom it appears a celestial angel
has been assigned to protect.

In my wanderings I have become familiar
with a number of these fortunate ones.
They present the very specimen of health
and vigor, and possess a mass and reach
that testify a rare and wondrous success.

I have stood in awe of a few such trees
on a weekday afternoon,
only to find them the very next morning,
flat on the forest floor,
a shipwreck of branch and beam.

Upon closer inspection I observed that under its bark was not a hardwood timber,
but in fact, the honeycomb condominiums of a termite tenement,
whose millions of apartments stretched upwards
from the stump twenty feet or more.

Precious to me is the innocence
and generosity of these trees.
So refreshingly authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So very real.

Overview

For me, a tree is a person.

I could bring water to the base of a tree,
and nutrient to its soil,
and perhaps have some effect on its future.

But for the most part,
a tree is its own keeper.
Responsible for its continuance.
Vulnerable to the actions of others.
Assailable to the caprice of environment.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of light and water.
But the stream that feeds the roots
Will sometimes strip away the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill will bask in the sun under a clear blue sky,
but will later find itself
in the uncomfortable cross hairs
of a thunder storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage.
Some find themselves under power lines,
whose life and limb continue
at the pleasure of the utility company.

I have also observed trees at cliffs edge.
And some even who have taken root
somewhat over the edge,
bound to grow out as well as up,
and so live out their lives
somewhat perpendicular perhaps
to their own expectations.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe as to forever extinguish the life of ninety-nine out of a hundred,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Then there are those for whom it appears a celestial angel
has been assigned to protect.

In my wanderings I have become familiar
with a number of these fortunate ones.
They present the very specimen of health
and vigor, and possess a mass and reach
that testify a rare and wondrous success.

I have stood in awe of a few such trees
on a weekday afternoon,
only to find them the very next morning,
flat on the forest floor,
a shipwreck of branch and beam.

Upon closer inspection I observed that under its bark was not a hardwood timber,
but in fact, the honeycomb condominiums of a termite tenement,
whose millions of apartments stretched upwards
from the stump twenty feet or more.

Precious to me is the innocence
and generosity of these trees.
So refreshingly authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So very real.

Overview

If water and sunlight are its friends,
Certainly the axe and disease are enemies.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of advantages.
But the water that feeds the roots
is capable of removing the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill
will be favored by the sun on blue-sky days,
but may later become a lightning rod in the eye of a storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage as well.
Some arrive to find themselves under power lines,
whose very life then continues at the pleasure
of a utility company.

I have stumbled upon others at cliffs edge,
and some who have taken root somewhat over the edge,
forced to grow out instead of up, and so live out their lives
perpendicular to the expectations of their parents.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe
as to forever extinguish the life
of ninety-nine out of a hundred like cases,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Overview

Overview

Significant to me is the innocence of my participants, my models, my subjects.
Trees are so authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So natural.
So real.

Iâ??m so grateful to have this camera work.
Many have been the days that I have returned home with no images
of significance to show.
And yet, the search
was by itself
a reward.

Overview

For me, a tree is a person.

I could bring water to the base of a tree,
and nutrient to its soil,
and perhaps have some effect on its future.

But for the most part,
a tree is its own keeper.
Responsible for its continuance.
Vulnerable to the actions of others.
Assailable to the caprice of environment.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of light and water.
But the stream that feeds the roots
Will sometimes strip away the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill will bask in the sun under a clear blue sky,
but will later find itself
in the uncomfortable cross hairs
of a thunder storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage.
Some find themselves under power lines,
whose life and limb continue
at the pleasure of the utility company.

I have also observed trees at cliffs edge.
And some even who have taken root
somewhat over the edge,
bound to grow out as well as up,
and so live out their lives
somewhat perpendicular perhaps
to their own expectations.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe as to forever extinguish the life of ninety-nine out of a hundred,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Then there are those for whom it appears a celestial angel
has been assigned to protect.

In my wanderings I have become familiar
with a number of these fortunate ones.
They present the very specimen of health
and vigor, and possess a mass and reach
that testify a rare and wondrous success.

I have stood in awe of a few such trees
on a weekday afternoon,
only to find them the very next morning,
flat on the forest floor,
a shipwreck of branch and beam.

Upon closer inspection I observed that under its bark was not a hardwood timber,
but in fact, the honeycomb condominiums of a termite tenement,
whose millions of apartments stretched upwards
from the stump twenty feet or more.

Precious to me is the innocence
and generosity of these trees.
So refreshingly authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So very real.

Overview

For me, a tree is a person.

I could bring water to the base of a tree,
and nutrient to its soil,
and perhaps have some effect on its future.

But for the most part,
a tree is its own keeper.
Responsible for its continuance.
Vulnerable to the actions of others.
Assailable to the caprice of environment.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of light and water.
But the stream that feeds the roots
Will sometimes strip away the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill will bask in the sun under a clear blue sky,
but will later find itself
in the uncomfortable cross hairs
of a thunder storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage.
Some find themselves under power lines,
whose life and limb continue
at the pleasure of the utility company.

I have also observed trees at cliffs edge.
And some even who have taken root
somewhat over the edge,
bound to grow out as well as up,
and so live out their lives
somewhat perpendicular perhaps
to their own expectations.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe as to forever extinguish the life of ninety-nine out of a hundred,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Then there are those for whom it appears a celestial angel
has been assigned to protect.

In my wanderings I have become familiar
with a number of these fortunate ones.
They present the very specimen of health
and vigor, and possess a mass and reach
that testify a rare and wondrous success.

I have stood in awe of a few such trees
on a weekday afternoon,
only to find them the very next morning,
flat on the forest floor,
a shipwreck of branch and beam.

Upon closer inspection I observed that under its bark was not a hardwood timber,
but in fact, the honeycomb condominiums of a termite tenement,
whose millions of apartments stretched upwards
from the stump twenty feet or more.

Precious to me is the innocence
and generosity of these trees.
So refreshingly authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So very real.

Overview

Overview

For me, a tree is a person.

I could bring water to the base of a tree,
and nutrient to its soil perhaps,
and have some effect on its future.

But for the most part,
a tree is its own keeper.
Responsible for its continuance.
Vulnerable to the actions of others.
Assailable to the caprice of environment.

A tree growing on a riverbank
has an abundance of light and water.
But the stream that feeds the roots
Will sometimes strip away the soil beneath.

A tree that adorns the top of a hill will bask in the sun under a clear blue sky,
but will later find itself
in the uncomfortable cross hairs
of a thunder storm.

I have found trees born to disadvantage. Some find themselves under power lines, whose life and limb continue at the pleasure of the utility company.

I have also observed trees at cliffs edge.
And some even who have taken root
somewhat over the edge,
and are bound to grow out as well as up,
and so live out their lives
somewhat perpendicular perhaps
to their own expectations.

Some have experienced a calamity so severe as to forever extinguish the life of ninety-nine out of a hundred like cases,
and yet survive, though in a hobbled state,
perhaps even to a great age.

Then there are those for whom it appears a universal mind has conspired to protect.
In my wanderings I have become familiar
with a number of these fortunate ones.
They present the very specimen of health
and vigor, and possess a mass and reach
that testify a rare and wondrous success.

I have stood in awe of a few such trees
on a weekday afternoons,
then find them the very next morning,
flat on the forest floor,
a shipwreck of branch and beam.

Upon closer inspection I observed that under its bark was not a hardwood timber, but in fact, the honeycomb condominium
of a million tenant termites,
whose apartments stretched upwards
from the stump twenty feet or more.

Precious to me is the innocence
and generosity of my trees.
So refreshingly authentic.
So unselfconscious.
So unaffected.
So natural.
So real.

And I?m so grateful to have this work.
Many have been the days that I have returned home exhausted and wet,
with no images of significance to share.
And yet, the search was by itself
a fair compensation.

Overview