Heaven: Tree Story #30

I've updated the original post for this tree story, but I thought it might be good to start adding a new post when a story gets paired with an image - to see more about this project, check out my Visions of Heaven blog at www.heavenartproject.blogspot.com. This tree story isn't there yet, but it will be, so much to do!

Tree Story #30: the Mustard Tree

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard see planted in a field. It is the smallest of all seeds, but it becomes the largest of garden plants; it grows into a tree, and birds come and make nests in its branches.

Matthew 13: 31-32, see also Luke 13:18-19

spring oak #4

Spring Oak #4, another Polaroid transfer, this one is available as a pigment print, you can email me for details if you're interested.

tree story #94

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tree story #93

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tree story #92: ghost

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 jays 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

Many thanks, my friend! jm

tree story #91

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tree story #90

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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.

tree story #89

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tree story #88

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tree story #87

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tree story #86

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tree story #85

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tree story #84

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tree story #83

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tree story #82

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tree story #81

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tree story #80

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tree story #79

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Tree Story #78: Meditations...

Meditations on a Tree

Faithful tree! Freeing us from your forbidden ancestor’s curse,
The birthplace of empty promises and lies.
Pestilence and toil, war and hatred, pride and fear and despair
-The tyranny of sin and death-
All find their ultimate end when the gardener
Nails payment to your branches.

Tree of beauty! Not resin but blood flowing down those branches,
Blood to wash the world from stain,
Blood to reconcile wayward sons and daughters to the Father,
Blood to make one people.

Sweet tree! None in fruit thy peer may be.
Your long-awaited Divine fruit giving nourishment,
Only antidote to the toxic ancient fruit,
Fruit to produce fruit.
The purchased feast under your boughs,
The beloved discovers that she has become someone else
As the crimson juice trickles down her chin.

Tree of victory! Among your branches the partridge rules over the serpent,
And the aged remember the first dawn and recognize the day:
The second creation, pardoned and beyond tarnish or corruption.

Glorious tree! Leaves unfurling after the frost
Drink the Light and prove that Winter’s spell has broken.
Lush foliage erupting over the hills testifies to this newness of life,
Quivering silver medallions hanging from tender stems whisper of riches beyond measure.
Great tree, point heavenward lest I forget the ever-circling Sovereignty.


Karen Garven