Does the artist intrinsically understand his place in nature, his part in the creative journey that rises from the soil, that breathes life through its shoots, that always gives back? Annie and I made the best of yet another prairie winter day (yes, it IS April) and hiked the Cedar Bog trail this weekend.
I was struck by this question as we passed through woods filled with bird houses avec feed, a fir tree someone had decorated at Christmas time, and lovely works of art hanging on tree trunks.
Maybe it's a mutual respect. Maybe it's about assuring each other strong, healthy roots. Maybe it's about the way the tree and I both lean toward the midday sun with a smile, thanking our creator for making creators of all of us.
To those who have voices and want to whisper to the few they know will visit.
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