3/27/2010

Tree of life

The tree of life is a symbol in many cultures. It can have different meanings depending on if it is shown with or without leaves, with or without roots.
But you know what? It doesn't really matter. A tree is beautiful, one way or the other.

For some it's just a piece of wood that you can burn, for some it's inspiration, for many it is a friend. It's a place you can sit underneath, enjoying the shade, reading, chatting, dozing or sleeping. It's something that can accompany you your whole life through and many people are sad when they see an old friend like that being cut down.
There have been songs written about it (a favorite of mine being from 1968 sung by Alexandra) and there are countless poems and stories.

Of course I have my own tree stories to tell
- about the walnut tree in my godmother's garden that had to be cut down because it got to tall for its spot so close to the house
- about the cherry tree that my friend and I climbed in her garden picking the gorgeous deep red sweet cherries
- the sour cherry tree in our garden (when there were no garages there yet) I was sitting underneath with my grandmother telling her that my doll needed clothes
- the chestnut trees in the school yard and the park nearby where we collected tons of chestnuts to later make little horses and other animals out of
- the apple trees in our pastor's garden that were raided by the boys from our confirmation course until the pastor put a big bowl of apples on the table with a wink in his eye (he was the coolest pastor ever!)
- the lemon tree in the back of my friend's house in California where I sat for four hours with White Dude, the later foreign exchange kitty we took home after that vacation, in my arms

.... oh, I could go and on, but I'm sure you have your own stories.


My muse made me create two tree pieces lately. She can be a mean kicker if she wants me to do something!
One of them is a polymer clay piece. By making it I expressed how tired I was of seeing snow. I can't wait for the green to come back.


The other one is a piece of ocean jasper looking like a winter landscape (thanks, Ness, for pointing that out!). At first there was no tree, but when I felt I wanted to make the bezel even safer to avoid the rock jumping out of it, suddenly a tree began to shape and I followed the direction willingly.
I also love bare trees, maybe because they seem to be a promise life will come back?


These two pieces couldn't be more different. Just like my memories of trees.

I would love for you to share one of your memories with me.

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