27 February 2024

Sometime 100 – 120 or so years ago, a pin oak and a willow oak were planted in my yard.  I think a lot about the way they catch the evening light, especially in winter.

I revisit this note to myself:

They hold so much poeticism and meaning to me, it’s difficult to know where to even start.

On an emotional level, I feel both awe and fear.  

Maybe that’s where I’ll start. 

Because abstraction doesn’t act as metaphor for me but a thing unto itself, framing them this way feels like a new way of thinking. Perhaps I need to depict them literally first? I should look at Mondrian’s tree paintings again.

Here they are in all their summer glory.