New Spruce

The complete backstory for the Kuerner Farm Series can be read on my blog post for July, 18, 2017 …

which you can search for by clicking here.

The first thing you don’t see is the spruce tree Karl planted
to remind him of his boyhood days in the Black Forest of Germany.

When I first visited the farm, right after they opened it for tours,
that tree was so large that it completely obscured the front of the house.
When you stood on the porch back then, you couldn’t even see Kuerner’s hill.

The next time I was there, on that first plein air visit,
I had made my way onto the porch,
while I was waiting for that photographer to finish up in the spring room.
The first thing I noticed was the bucket hanging from the gutter.
Andrew painted it at least once that I remember,
so it was another of those echoes,
placed, or not, by the museum, or by Karl the third perhaps.
No matter, it fits.

I sat myself on the stuccoed ledge opposite this window and took it all in.

It seemed to me that, if I had lived a good life…
to borrow from my friend Follansbee,
the sun might just cooperate and sweep over to the right in an our or two,
and cast some manner of interesting light play across those well weathered surfaces of paint.

I waited a long time.
Sketched a bit.
Rested my eyes.
Listened.
Hiked up to the truck for a snack.
And back down.
And there it was.
A slow creeping at first, and then a full blown blast of light
that would have made Rudolph weep. Full power.

So, I began to document at high speed.
Thousands of shots, zooming in and out as first one paint drip cast a shadow,
and then a different edge of framing snapped to attention.
The reflections interested me and the dark shape in the lower right slowly resolved into a tree.
I turned around to look again.
Sure enough, there was a young tree planted right next to the giant stump of the old one.
The new light was also coming to play on that spruce tree, outlining each needle,
and the wind kept rearranging the branches so I that I would have lots to work with.

Then I felt something on my arm. A lady bug.
Then two more.
And on the nearby post…dozens.
They had arrived with the light, and were having a merry old time.
I knew at once that all would be well…it was Ted.
He had a special gift for me.

I focused back on the window…
and saw the pine cone.
Chills actually went along my shoulders.

The last remnant of Karl’s forest was tucked into the wing of the shutter hinge.
When I took a closer look, there was the faintest trace of paint from the brush
of whoever had most recently whitewashed the moulding.

Slayed, by a whisper of grace.