John's Trees

'John's Trees' 17x17" mixed media; Kathleen Faulkner

We walked for hours.  It was a grey day; the ground beneath our feet was spongy, muddy, wet.  No sound but the slosh of our feet and birds, birds everywhere.  Lost in the thoughts of this place, smelling the salt, the mud, the sea,  breathing it in deep, feeling the healing.  

The week had been tough, filled with deadlines, overextended commitments, drama and worries.  I had been looking forward to this day. 

We stopped for a minute when David said, 'Those are John's trees. He planted them.  His energy is still here'. 'I can feel it', I said, and it was true.  The wind suddenly swept up through the trees singing a song of long, lost memories..    Then we continued on our way.

Regarding Mother

"Snoqualmie Pass" 21x23" oil pastel, Kathleen Faulkner

It was deep into spring and we were heading over the pass. Suddenly, a last, late snowfall, early morning sunshine and a nice slice of wind swooped us. It was beautiful yet unnerving, as if the elements were emotions.

Snow is unusual for that time of year and I'm sure my state of mind added to the mood. Our friend had died and we were on our way to a funeral.  One minute deep in thought and gazing out the window then the next,  paying attention.   

It brought to mind some questions I wonder about from time to time:  Do trees feel pain?  Can animals  show compassion?   Does Mother Earth know when her children die and,  if so,  does she mourn?  

"Snoqualmie Pass II" 21x23" oil pastel, Kathleen Faulkner