Dear Tree

My slow and labour intense attempt to reshaped you into a new skin for me was not to be. My bold arrogance looked to create something big and bold; something that would take a spotlight. I told myself this was about ‘you.’ My intent to tame your own lovely skin to become mine was not to be. In the wetting, twisting, and cording against my own body I learned that the taming was of me, not you. I am in awe of you and what you give; your beauty, breath, and connections with all living things. I was able to make a couple of small skeins. I was grateful; precious, delicate string made from paper, your being. I offer here a simple garland, woven and knotted, curled by my fingers and yours. Thank you for all that you do. I have much to learn.