A group of us were sitting on the grass in the shade of a maple tree, when the question came up, as it does with kids, "If you could be a tree, what kind of tree would you be?"
Although we were only about 10 years old, there was already a girl who was the "popular" one; she chose the Mighty Oak, with the reasoning that as a Leo, a strong tree suited her personality. Another girl, brought up in a home surrounded with reminders of her Scottish heritage, chose the Canadian Maple, honouring her ancestors who had settled much of Canada.
When it was my turn, I stated that my favourite tree is the Willow. (And was promptly teased mercilessly!). Apparently, the preteen girls had quickly decided that since the Willow bends with the wind, it must be firmly considered "wishy-washy". Many years later, reading Stoic and Taoist philosophy, I was vindicated, as the Willow was considered to exemplify resilience; the ability to adapt to hardship without breaking.
My love of Willows continues to this day, although I have to admit that painting them is a challenge I continue to endure. You'd think it would be easy; the larger branches are bent like a back carrying a heavy load and the tiny branches at the top create a halo that appear to have no weight at all. A description in words is effortless, but a considerable effort to translate with a brush and paint.
The Rockies in their majesty gently cradle green valleys, the towns below protected by the surrounding fortress of mountains. Near the Columbia Wetlands where the land is linked by connected waterways filled with birds, artists spend hours sketching and painting, like children playing in dappled light. Water means WILLOWS, so the word Paradise doesn't begin to describe it for me.
Although it's still a struggle to paint willows, a recent quick sketch in Liquid Charcoal captured the halo effect on the trees at the lower elevation that made my heart sing. Here is the sketch;
Thank you for spending this time with me,
Lori xx