I’ve always been fascinated with trees. It is a part of my soul. Winding around my heart like a vine, it has shaped my ever-changing world and my art.

From the Very Beginning

My fascination with trees has been a constant throughout my life. As the child of a Navy officer, I moved frequently, but amidst all the travels, it is the trees that I remember most vividly.

I was born in Virginia, though I have no recollections of that state. My earliest memories begin in Wisconsin, where our backyard was a verdant sanctuary filled with trees. These trees shaded our yard, making it an idyllic playground. I fondly remember putting acorns in my mouth, only to have my mother fish them out.

Trees Everywhere… Even in the House

I turned five in Maryland. My memories from this time are of picnicking under towering trees, with slices of sky peeking through their branches. I also recall the trains speeding by, making the leaves sway in the wind they generated. Our living room wall was adorned with a mural my mother painted—exotic birds on a flowering tree branch that stretched across the entire room.    I remember being mesmerized by its beauty.

The Effect Trees Have on Me

Our first stint in California is a blur, perhaps because the absence of trees made the memories less vivid. What I do recall is tinged with sadness, memories I have pushed deep down.

Between our two stays in California, we spent a year in New York with my grandmother. Her large yard had a couple of massive trees. I would rise early, before anyone else, to sit under one of these trees and sing with the birds. Another tree on the property had been struck by lightning long before I was born. It bore a huge scar, painted with tar to prevent bug infestations. This scar ignited my imagination, leading to countless stories and illustrations created under its canopy.

Sycamores and Sequoias

Back in California, we lived in a neighborhood adorned with mighty sycamores. These trees stood in stark contrast to the manicured gardens and palm trees, their majesty a reminder of nature’s grandeur.

We often camped in the Sierra Nevada mountains among the ancient Sequoias, which left me in awe. One fallen Sequoia even formed a tunnel that we drove through, and another served as a cabin for a historical figure. Although I could not find information about these trees later, the memories remain vivid, including a gnarled tree growing out of rock in Yosemite, which I painted when I was eleven from a photograph my father took while we were there.

From Coast to Coast

The summer after fourth grade, we moved from California to New Jersey, where my father was stationed at the Philadelphia Naval Yard. As we journeyed east, the lush greenery of Pennsylvania struck me deeply. The dense woods and vibrant foliage made me feel instantly at home, a stark contrast to the dry landscapes we had left behind.

In New Jersey, we eventually moved to a stately stone home on what was once the Dembro Poultry Estate…the largest in the country. The highlight of this home was a huge sycamore tree in the backyard, its branches providing ample shade and a cool retreat during hot summers, negating the need for air conditioning.

Riding through the Sugarbush

When my father retired, we moved to Chautauqua Lake in Upstate New York, where my parents were born and raised. We bought a 55 acre farm on a hill looking over Lake Chautauqua. It was surrounded by woods. Maple trees were prevalent and there were plenty of dirt roads through the woods that were used for collecting the sap to make maple sugar. I’d ride my horses for miles.  I felt I had found my paradise.

The Largest Tree in the City

After marrying, my husband and I settled in Buffalo, NY, in a century-old home near Delaware Park. The house boasted the largest tree in the city, which could be viewedfrom most anywhere in the city. It was a landmark that provided a shady haven for raising our two sons.

Our Baby Sycamore

Twenty-one years later, we moved to Ohio, where we live today. One of our first acts was planting a sycamore in the front yard. I needed the feeling of putting down literal roots, to feel connected to the earth and the stability of staying in one place. Today, that little tree is now well above the roof of our two story home!

The Great Ohio Woods

The area we live in is called the Western Reserve. Very early in the history of our country, when Ohio was considered the west… many of the colonies had reserved land in the ‘west’. This part of Ohio was claimed by Connecticut through grants and royal charters, originally to compensate Connecticut families who had suffered much during the Revolutionary War. The allure of this part of Ohio was that it was very similar to Connecticut with its lush, hilly land, rivers and miles of picturesque woodland. There is a saying that started when people began to migrate into Ohio after the Revolutionary War, which clearly illustrates how Ohio was completely covered with trees. As the saying goes, “A squirrel could go from one end of Ohio to the other without ever touching the ground.”

The Art of Trees

Although I no longer have many pieces of my art from my childhood, one oil painting still has a place on my wall. It was painted entirely by using a palette knife and mixing most of the colors directly on the canvas. It is a 24”x36” canvas painted from a slide my father had developed when we lived in California. I had to press the slide down into a cube to be able to see it, so I painted with my left hand and held the slide in the viewer with my right.

Today, trees still hold their importance as a major subject in much of my art.

Notice the unusual size difference between the horses and the trees in this artwork called “Sanctuary”.

Another favorite of mine is “Three Old Girls”. It is a part of a row of Sycamores along a back road near my house. Originally, I had meant to photograph the exact scene in all four seasons, but after this photo was taken, the middle tree was taken down and the scene just isn’t the same anymore.

Conclusion

Reflecting on my artwork over the years, I realize that trees have always been a central theme. They provided a sense of home and continuity for a child who moved as often as I did, grounding me in each new place with their steadfast presence.