remembering (tree story #140)

A break in the recent storms has given me a great desire to get out. I’ve come to this park, next to where they’re building the new high school and find the high school grounds are taking more of the park than I expected. It’s a small blow to my heart. The “tree along the fence” is gone, as is the old fence; it makes me a little sad but bittersweet that I caught it on film while I could.

The ground is wet but not too soggy, covered in short green grass sprouts and fallen oak leaves. I wander around the park and find a well worn foot path dead-ends at a chain link construction fence. New taller fences, looking appropriate for sports courts, are just beyond.

Many of my favorite trees are still here though - I’m also looking to see how they all weathered the recent sixty-five-mile-per-hour winds, so I’m enjoying my old friends for as long as I can. A small flock of doves roosts in the top of the “woodpecker oak” and a few magpies at the top of another. I photograph one of the old heritage oaks that I had called “oak near Palmerson Drive” and one of the “s curve oaks,” reminding me of my kids playing here when they were little. Lots of tiny little finches flit around branches, twittering and calling out to each other, much like the little children in my memory.

Judith Monroe, Wanderings journal

longing for the wind's embrace (tree story #139)

Proud and strong they stand
with roots spreading across the land
reaching for the sky they are
to be viewed like beacons from afar
yearning for the sun’s caress
to shine upon their wooden dress
longing for the wind’s embrace
to bring out their ancient grace
proud and strong they stand
but will they survive the greed of man?

Magnus Holmgren

with eager hope (tree story #108)

Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. For all creation is waiting eagerly for that future day when God will reveal who his children really are. Against its will, all creation was subjected to God’s curse. But with eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. And we believers also groan, even though we have the Holy Spirit within us as a foretaste of future glory, for we long for our bodies to be released from sin and suffering. We, too, wait with eager hope for the day when God will give us our full rights as his adopted children, including the new bodies he has promised us. We were given this hope when we were saved. (If we already have something, we don’t need to hope for it. But if we look forward to something we don’t yet have, we must wait patiently and confidently.)

Romans 8:18-25

still singing (tree story #97)

10 a.m. sunny, warm & clear. Songbirds singing, kids playing, voices echo in the quiet hills. No sign of life on the vines yet, grass & other little plants green up the ground. I wander around a bit and see about a half dozen mule deer carefully work their way along the west edge of the vineyards in the bordering oak woods where the light will be better later...

6 p.m. Light clouds coming in - little less intense light than last evening - cooling just a little, songbirds are still singing. Clouds shift, the earth moves around the sun, the light shifts and changes. Vineyard to the southwest, framed by trees and a stone wall.

Judith Monroe, Wanderings journal

ghost (tree story #92)

It was just as she said it would be: the reddish light glancing off the hill, filtering through the summer’s yellowing grass. I was close to where the blue oak should be. “Stop,” I said, for no other reason than to hear a sound other than the scrub jay’s shrill retorts, the barb-wire twanging from a breeze somewhere along the fence’s many-miled length. I knelt to sit momma’s ashes down in the grass. Instead of the soft thud, porcelain against earth, there was a resounding thunk. I swept away pebbled dirt and wisps of straw-grass, to find - momma’s tree, leveled by something stronger than the 50 years that had passed since she was last here. A deep cleft scarred the trunk where lightning had broken it like a promise. I pulled the faded picture from my back pocket; the tree momma spent much of her childhood around now only existed on its yellowing surface. In the evening light, the blue oak seemed to shimmer and ghost across the film: gone was the knot where it had grown around the barb wire fence, metal sticking out its trunk like a rotted tooth; gone were the limbs stretching like compass points over the horizon to anywhere except here; gone was momma’s name carved with a chunk of broken glass; gone was momma’s wish to climb it one last time. The meadow swayed arid and dusty in the heat as I picked up the jar, the orange of the sunset arcing across the porcelain. I started to pull the top off the vase, then put it back on, tucked the vase under my arm and walked back across the field to my car. Momma had come too far to find out she could never go home.

Indigo Moor

jacob's ladder (tree story #39)

Meanwhile, Jacob left Beersheba and traveled toward Haran. At sundown he arrived at a good place to set up camp and stopped there for the night. Jacob found a stone to rest his head against and lay down to sleep. As he slept, he dreamed of a stairway that reached from the earth up to heaven. And he saw the angels of God going up and down the stairway.

At the top of the stairway stood the Lord, and he said, “I am the Lord, the God of your grandfather Abraham, and the God of your father, Isaac. The ground you are lying on belongs to you. I am giving it to you and your descendants. Your descendants will be as numerous as the dust of the earth! They will spread out in all directions—to the west and the east, to the north and the south. And all the families of the earth will be blessed through you and your descendants. What’s more, I am with you, and I will protect you wherever you go. One day I will bring you back to this land. I will not leave you until I have finished giving you everything I have promised you.”

Then Jacob awoke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” But he was also afraid and said, “What an awesome place this is! It is none other than the house of God, the very gateway to heaven!”

The next morning Jacob got up very early. He took the stone he had rested his head against, and he set it upright as a memorial pillar. Then he poured olive oil over it. He named that place Bethel (which means “house of God”), although the name of the nearby village was Luz.

Then Jacob made this vow: “If God will indeed be with me and protect me on this journey, and if he will provide me with food and clothing, and if I return safely to my father’s home, then the Lord will certainly be my God. And this memorial pillar I have set up will become a place for worshiping God, and I will present to God a tenth of everything he gives me.”

Genesis 28:10-22

heaven (tree story #25)

“If a blind man momentarily gained his sight and described an actual tree that he saw, other blind people - especially if they lived in a world where everyone was blind - might automatically assume the tree was nonliteral, a mere symbol of spiritual reality. But they would be wrong. Likewise, we should not assume that the Bible describes Heaven in physical ways merely to accommodate us. It is fully possible that the present Heaven is a physical realm.”

Randy Alcorn, Heaven

reunion (tree story #17)

Took a drive over to James’ and Janet’s property - some day a retirement home will be there - wandered around and talked of plans, admired views, this cluster of trees marks the property line at one point.

Back at Butch and Linda’s I set off to wander again. Little cousin Edie wants to come along, so I sit down by the naked ladies to wait for her to put her shoes on. Edie takes me for a walk and shows me the creek through the gate, just off the property. This is her grandparents’ house and she knows her way around pretty well - as well as any seven-year-old would. But I think Edie took me through poison - I hope not - I was watching her instead of watching out.

We wander back onto the property; Edie finds her brother’s long lost hat and her long lost doll. We camp out on the big rock outcropping I stopped at yesterday and I let her shoot a few frames on the Izone, I shoot a couple with the Land Camera. “Grandma and Grandpa’s woods” hold high adventure: Edie climbs a tree to fetch an old light switch plate made of clear blue plastic and adorned with silver glitter. Old treasures abound here.

The light is fading - I’m guessing it’s time to head back.

Judith Monroe, Wanderings journal

endless battle (tree story #141)

Still it stands, the tree of life
holding its ground
struggling to survive the endless battle.

Still it comes, the mist of death
unleashing its powers
trying to win the endless battle.

Still there is, an equilibrium
balancing the scales
making sure there is an endless battle.

Still I wonder, could someone win
life or death, growth or decay
bringing an end to the endless battle.

Magnus Holmgren

tree of hope

Another new kind of tree story - this is a hand-colored black & white photograph incorporated into a mixed media collage on canvas titled "Hope." Dimensions 10"x10" x2.5" deep, $275 (but I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to give it up just yet.) You can read some of the story at my Visions of Heaven blog.

spring oak #7

Another in my spring oak series of Polaroid transfers, this is Spring Oak #7, available as pigment prints, email for more details.

under spring oaks

Under Spring Oaks, another Polaroid transfer available as pigment prints...

spring oak #5

Polaroid transfer, "Spring Oak #5" available as pigment prints beginning at $65 matted.

Email me at judith@judthmonroe.com for more info.

Tree stories evolve

Been such a long time, but I am still working on this project, really, just sometimes in the background and in connection with other projects, too. In fact, the new Heaven project will have some tree stories in it, so I'll be sure to post the overlap. And I'll start posting some of my other tree work, too - just to keep things interesting...




Spring Oak #1, the alternate version... I've got a warmer version that's available as pigment prints, too.


Stay tuned folks, there's more to follow.