a story about painting

Ryan and I were just driving along the back dirt roads of Wichita & I remembered something from my teen years in Iowa. There was a tree on the side of the highway between Shellsburg & Palo that I often passed on the way to the big city of Cedar Rapids. It was my favorite tree. I can't remember what it looked like exactly but it was hands down my favorite tree.

I always meant to stop on the shoulder of the highway & take pictures of it. Arty, black & white pictures of course. But I never actually took any pictures of it.

Thinking about it now, I'm glad I never did. Having a picture of the tree is not important (and apparently wasn't that important to me then or I would have done it). Having a picture of the tree would just be an empty shell and would drain power from the memory and the experience. The existence of that tree & the experience I had every time I drove by & saw it was important. That's what that tree was all about for me.