I grew up in a small Oregon town called Trail, where my family home rests among fresh water springs, a still lake, open hay fields, and towering pine trees. Each year when I return, I am reminded of its quiet majesty. Along the long gravel road, the fields are dotted with large, airy, dandelion-like forms that shimmer in the light. They stand tall, often unnoticed by those passing by, yet full of grace and intention.
When the wind carries their feathery seeds away, what remains is a brown button crowned with wild, twisting tendrils. The shape is intricate and full of quiet beauty. Look closer. The ordinary reveals something extraordinary.
30 x 40 in. Oyster Root on linen board
I grew up in a small Oregon town called Trail, where my family home rests among fresh water springs, a still lake, open hay fields, and towering pine trees. Each year when I return, I am reminded of its quiet majesty. Along the long gravel road, the fields are dotted with large, airy, dandelion-like forms that shimmer in the light. They stand tall, often unnoticed by those passing by, yet full of grace and intention.
When the wind carries their feathery seeds away, what remains is a brown button crowned with wild, twisting tendrils. The shape is intricate and full of quiet beauty. Look closer. The ordinary reveals something extraordinary.
30 x 40 in. Oyster Root on linen board