This tree drifted onto Moonstone Beach at some point. As I tried to get to know it, I wondered what it’s story was. If driftwood could talk… Where did it come from? Did kids climb in it’s branches? What animals lived in it? Was it near the edge of a bluff, hanging on until a big storm finally eroded it’s grip? Where was that? Not even sure, what kind of tree it is, but now it is nicely wedged in the sand, and makes a nice place to sit. Someone has carved initials and a heart on it.
My name was carved alongside my husband’s on the trunk of our Buckeye tree, by Gary long ago. It shaded our house and front yard for many years. It held the special “mist heads” which kept the ferns cool during the hot summers. Of course, someday that tree will die, or be cut down to make room for something else. Then it will be useful for firewood, mulch, or a stump to sit on.
I relate to the driftwood in my painting. I used to be Gary’s wife for a long time. There were a million things to do in that role, and I loved it. Now I have new things to do, and I enjoy them too. Maybe you’ve read The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein. Sometimes I see myself as the “tree,” wanting to be useful in new ways, and sometimes I’m the “boy,” looking for a comfortable place to sit, and enjoy the view.
From "The Giving Tree"
"I wish that I could give you something... but I have nothing left. I am an old stump. I am sorry..."
"I don't need very much now," said the boy, "just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired."
"Well," said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could,
"well, an old stump is a good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest."
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.”
