Trees. Eden.

My Trees multimedia installation is about dormancy, death and decay. Two days of unremitting rain have kept me from taking my beloved imaging devices (uh, cameras) outside and risking their sensitive electronics. Too bad. The light during rainstorms is beguiling. 

All the more reason why I greet this morning's sunshine with an excited shout. Suiting up with tripod, HDSLR and digital audio recorder, I'm a quarter mile away before I look up and notice the sun is gone and the clouds look a little pregnant. 

Stifling a curse, I abort the mission to walk to Auburndale Park and detour to nearby Eden Avenue, a short street with an evocative name.

At the end of the block, the provocative image of TwistedSister beckons to me. Improbably positioned at the edge of a field behind an old school where my daughter and I used to play catch, this slender lady stands there, locked forever in a Ginger Rogers foxtrot dip. I'm too short to dance with you, my dear. But I sure would like to spin you around.

Closer in, this alternate image of Ginger's soeur, WormHole, reveals yet another example of the repetition of forms in nature. I'll leave this interpretation to your imagination.

Just before the turn to Eden (avenue,)  brilliantly engineered terraces on a stout trunk, almost 90 degrees to the vertical, sing to my eye. 


BarnAcle attempts to capture this architectural tour-de-force, complete with fancy painted trim worthy of the 19th century Victorians sprinkled throughout the neighborhood.

Glancing again at the sky, I turn home with regret. I'm hoping to get another crack at some fallen oaks Jane Sender and Eric Olson have spotted for me in Flowed Meadow. Note: If you've seen some extraordinary dormant, dead or decaying trees, please let me know. Feel free to use the comments section of this blog. Cheers. ###