That Old Twisted Tree

"Twisted" is one of those words with serious negative connotations, but with the help of Evan and a dictionary it is the 8th of 8 meanings.

When I bought the Farm it was a riot of collapsed fences, buildings, poison, overgrowth, etc... Somethings were replaced like the training oval of an earlier posting, but not everything. The architect and landscaper had a field day in what they thought they could do; however, they ran into my hatred of killing trees needlessly.

Don't get me wrong, I own two chainsaws and burn wood to heat my house, and my greenhouse, but so far I've been able to do that with the ones that had to be moved or fell down.

The landscaper come architect, wanted to get rid of the three trees in the picture, two locusts and an ash. And so an argument began, why redo the fence, cut the poison and cut the grass with those old twisted trees dominating the perspective.

My argument boiled down to three points:

1) the trees reminded me of me, aka twisted
2) they represented a true farm vs a suburban scape
3) they had been there a long time, and would (probably) be there after both of us were gone

I thought of that tree along the lines of the preferred definitions in 1-7, specifically "to be entwined so as to impart a single thread", and "to have a coiled or spiral shape".

The trees were planted by the original farmers (held in the same family since 1740's), who used them for fences (especially the Locust's in this area), nuts, fruit, shade etc. they were part of the single thread of "a farm". And they were changed to be twisted by their circumstance: the wind, being planted on a bank, etc.

Ever since I was a kid I felt that I was part of a single thread of the lives of the people I knew and who I didn't they made up my family, my church, and the town that I lived in. Time and experiences changed me (not always for the better!), but thankfully the "soil" that I was "planted in", the "rain and the sunshine" etc., allowed me to live.

The Commission

The painting above the mantel is the ouput of a water color commission, but the commission isn't of the farm house that is on it.

My former milkman from NewCumberland retired and took up a new vocation - painting. Not only does he paint, but every Summer he goes to Europe to paint, and in his 70's is teaching painting at Lebanon Valley College. I found him while looking for some local watercolors that weren't Amish. While my family is Pennsylvania Dutch and spoke this colloquial German, they were thankfully not Amish, and I certainly know there were other influences in Central Pennsylvania from the Moravians to the Mennoties to the Molly McGuires (couldn't think of another "M" word to round the list).

Seeing a print of the Susquehanna of his, I tracked him down to his studio in Hummelstown and coaxed him to the Farm and asked him to do a watercolor of the (newly reconstructed) Barn. Sure he said, and I told him I was going to Europe for a month would he be done when i got back - sure he said.

When I returned I forgot all about him for about a month, but eventually I remembered, called, and he said he would be out the next day. When he got to the Farm he was all excited, he told me it turned out really well, and that he enjoyed doing it, and hoped I would like it.

Out of his trunk he pulled this picture of the old Farm House.

I didn't say anything.

He then asked me what I thought about it. I said it was beautiful (and it is), but that it wasn't a picture of the barn like we had agreed.

Oh yeah, he said. When he got here the light on the house was just perfect, with the shadows, and the care worn exterior etc etc etc........

We are people of expectations - we use our money, our time, our power over nature to achieve our vision or goals. Sometimes, we are surprised at the outcome, even pleasantly surprised by the twists and turns. The most surprise is when we deal with people who's personalities and backgrounds are completely different than ours.

I couldn't parse the logic of our conversation to the artist's actions, but I could recognize a positive outcome.

I ended up paying for two paintings and getting what I wanted a year later, a picture of a barn with little character because it had no shadows, no care-worn boards, and no passionate artist. Maybe I would have been smarter to have gone with original picture only; however, when I see this less than adequate picture I am reminded of someone else's superior vision, and that is a good thing.