Stocking Up

 

           

                 Waiting

 

Twelve Mile Creek passes by our property on its meandering way to Lake Ontario, and is the inspiration for many of my oil paintings.  Morning walks along its banks keep me in tune with the seasons, clear my head of daily chatter, and deepen my appreciation of nature’s ways.

Every once in a while I run into my neighbor, Sam, working in his wood lot, working at keeping things tidy. Neatly stacked fresh cut cords of wood dot the area waiting, to be called into service.

Although in his early eighties, Sam talks passionately about his trees and manages his woodlot with the attention of a micro-manager. Most likely sometime this year he will cut the ancient box elder tree in this painting, and use the wood to heat his home next year. The tree is dying, he says, and must be cut. It will leave a deep scar along the creek bank, but  . . . irrationally I plead silently for Sam to spare this tree, for to me, because if it’s magnificent size,  it speaks of days gone by when human hands were not always a threat.