Trees of a little girl is the translation of the title. When I was three and a half years old I moved from New Jersey City, where my father was stationed at Fort Monmouth, to Adak, Alaska, part of the chain of the Aleutian Islands. To say that we were living in a remote area was an understatement. I don’t remember taking the train across the United States to get there, but I do remember the boat trip through ice and snow and having my father, who left prior to us, pick me up in a jeep at night wearing a parka with a hood trimmed with fur. He then drove us to our quonset hut, where we lived for the next 6 months waiting for our barrack to be built. I felt like an Eskimo living in this hut. All of this was quite magical for me.
Adak didn’t have much on the island. There were other families that lived there, all had parents in the service, mostly Army and Navy, living in barracks. The land was flat, nothing in site for miles, but in other areas were purple majestic mountains. I would love to go to my favorite hill near my home called Captain Hill and pick wild flowers. I never felt so free. The island also had a few Totem poles here and there, and plenty of tundra, but no trees. I was too young to remember trees, so I didn’t miss them much. It was only when I returned to California at 5 years old, did I fall in love with trees. I couldn’t get enough of them. I would stare out the window as we drove through Northern California, admiring my favorite tree, the Oak. I remember saying to myself, “some day I am going to live in the country with those beautiful Oak trees.”
When I was in Kindergarten I was always trying to paint trees. I found them so wonderful and mysterious, I felt ther love and their strength. I would go outside and study them and then return to paint with poster paint. Somehow, they never quite looked like the vision I was trying to portray. Now I find myself going back to the childhood memories and I still have the same love for trees. And guess what? I did get my dream. I do live in the country and I do have a view of a thousand trees. I think I may explore my love of trees more and paint what I feel about them not necessarily what they look like.
This is my seventeenth painting toward my #paint52 challenge. It measures 24 X 36, mixed media, acrylic and oil on canvas, price $2160. I appreciate you all for visiting and following my challenge, thank you so much and if you leave a comment that’s even better.
Gorgeous, riotus color. I like it very much. However, I don’t think the trees are oaks. More like eucliptus or some tree that turns gold in autumn. Thanks for sharing your story. You’ve had a different than usual childhood. I too was born in a place that my dad was stationed, Douglas, Arizona. Last year we went back to see the town. It is so much different than Chicago where I grew up.
Mary
Oh yes they are Oaks, but I did use Artist Interpretation (Expressionist color). Thanks you so much for the nice comments. I was born in Germany, because my father was stationed there, but Alaska took a bit of my soul.
Amazing how a painting can capture a journey. I love the vibrant colors and the warmth of your painting, Janet. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks Debbie, I’m surprised where it took me as well.
Love your golden oaks. :o)
You described the trip to Alaska so vividly, I could imagine your Dad greeting you.
That’s right Golden Oaks. In fact there is a restaurant in Morgan Hill called that. Thanks Cheryl, there are some places and time that you can remember like it was yesterday, no matter how long ago. This was definitely one of them. Thank you!
Gorgeous color in that painting!
Thanks Jaye, I love to play with color.
Absolutely beautiful! Takes my breath away! Bravo Janet!!!!
So gorgeous, Janet!
Shannon, such a nice thing to say, thank you!
Patti, so appreciate you stopping by, thank you for leaving a comment and a great one at that 🙂
Janet, I love this painting. I can’t help wondering if there is more to the story – why the Italian language title? I remember when I got my first pair of glasses at ten years old and seeing the beauty of trees anew.
Leah, thanks so much for leaving a comment. You know I felt the Italian language would lend to the romance I had with the trees, as well as my father was Italian. It was probably a subliminal thing. I remember my parents trying to describe a tree to me before we left Alaska. Can you imagine trying to be told what a tree looks like? They really are unbelievable beings. I remember when my son got his first pair of glasses. He did start noticing the smallest things and I could tell there was a new world waiting for him. Thank you for sharing.
Hi Janet,
I don’t know how many times I came back to this blog post to stare at the painting. I have to admit the title drew my attention as well -so happy to know why you named it in Italian! Thanks for asking Leah, now we know the story 🙂
Trees are my friends too. They are so magical. The painting reflects your feelings in a very special way, you have done a great job because I feel it too. It’s cooling, refreshing but by the same time heart-warming and friendly. I even hear a light breeze.
Thank you for this eye-candy and the story with it, it’s very beautiful and touches my heart,
xx
Franziska
It makes my heart feel good that you got so much from my blog Franziska. I learn so much from my viewers. Thank you! 🙂