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Every time I took a photograph of these trees it allowed me to study them, to focus in closer and my connection grew deeper. Separated by barbed wire like a Rembrandt cordoned off from the public, I often refer to this place as the ‘tree museum.’ This particular ‘tree museum’ is different than the ones I knew on the east coast. I used to take drives from NYC up to Nyack or Westchester to see the Autumn trees in all their regalia.
You are probably familiar with the foliage of the elm and maple trees as they morph into winter with their striking colors of bright orange, yellow and even red. The oak trees in this west coast ‘museum’ are not so obvious in their beauty. Their leaves hardly change color if at all, their attractiveness subtler, more subdued. I’ll admit it took time for me to see the intensity of the beauty, but that is what makes them so special. It’s not always easy or obvious but it’s always stunning and alluring to me. Now, I hike in the midst of these oak giants in awe of each one, their psychedelic branches dancing in all directions, recognizable and I am delighted in their presence.
As I curated the images for this book, it felt like I was going through a family album; reminding me of good times, seasons, holidays and even tragedies. I have experienced solitude, magic and the great majesty of this land.
I would like to live as the trees do…in confidence, faith and fearlessness. They possess a constancy that I admire and can only hope to emulate in my time here.
