The Umbrella Tree
I've come to understand that many of us have fond memories of big, old trees. I named one of my favorite childhood memories "The Umbrella Tree" for its wondrous shape and the shelter it provided.
My best friend and I could sit among its branches for hours, even in pouring rain, and never get wet. It had a wonderful limb structure. Once you pulled yourself up on the lowest gigantic limb -- which seemed about two stories high to a 7-year-old -- you could walk up the branches just like a spiral stairway.
There was a big, smoothed out, flattened place on a branch way up near the top that made a wonderful perch, perhaps broken in by earlier generations of children. Another branch just behind and a little higher provided a backrest for leaning back and staring up through the branches and watching sunlight play on and through the leaves.
You could see everything going on around you from inside that tree, in this case the grounds of an old mansion in Newport, Rhode Island, where my family had an apartment, but nobody could see you.
I spent countless hours of numberless summer days dreaming and pondering and solving the problems of my childlike world among the branches of that tree.
Over the years, there were other trees in other places that gave shelter to my world. Some in fields, some in yards. But of them all I remember best The Umbrella Tree.
I sincerely hope you enjoy this painting and that it brings you, too, to peaceful, happy times.
My best friend and I could sit among its branches for hours, even in pouring rain, and never get wet. It had a wonderful limb structure. Once you pulled yourself up on the lowest gigantic limb -- which seemed about two stories high to a 7-year-old -- you could walk up the branches just like a spiral stairway.
There was a big, smoothed out, flattened place on a branch way up near the top that made a wonderful perch, perhaps broken in by earlier generations of children. Another branch just behind and a little higher provided a backrest for leaning back and staring up through the branches and watching sunlight play on and through the leaves.
You could see everything going on around you from inside that tree, in this case the grounds of an old mansion in Newport, Rhode Island, where my family had an apartment, but nobody could see you.
I spent countless hours of numberless summer days dreaming and pondering and solving the problems of my childlike world among the branches of that tree.
Over the years, there were other trees in other places that gave shelter to my world. Some in fields, some in yards. But of them all I remember best The Umbrella Tree.
I sincerely hope you enjoy this painting and that it brings you, too, to peaceful, happy times.
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