They line my office building, blocking the view from the west-end, front parking lot from the path that I walk, from the northern entrance of the office to the northern parking lot, which is on the far end, away from the main accessway.
The trees, evergreens, are, of themselves, nothing special, except that in the bleak months of winter, they are one of the few signs of life. And, at different times of day, the light catches them and plays with them in different ways.
I just like the way they look, and so, as I arrive at work, or as I make my way home, if the light strikes my eyes against these giant pines* in such a way that I look twice, I have captured them with my Android device.
Sometimes, although rarely, I use a D-SLR.
But it's not a project.
And I'm not the only one who has found them lovely to look at.
My dear friend, Rebecca, liked one of the photos that I took and decided to show her own artistic take on these trees.
It was a late-afternoon shot: according to the photo's metadata, it was January 27, 2015, at precisely 4:35 PM. The sun was low in the sky, had just fallen below the Gatineau Hills, across Highway 5. A mix of sky and cloud swept the background and added to the coolness of the day. Temperatures were in the minus twenties.
I shot the image, and when I climbed into my car, climbed out of the cold wind, I tweaked the photo and posted it on Twitter. Maybe, on Facebook, too. I started the car and got rolling. I think I may have headed to the Rideau Falls, to take some shots for the next Wordless Wednesday.
Becca responded to the tweet. She said she liked the photo. She said she should paint it.
My friend is a woman of many talents. She can sing. She can act. She can make me laugh until it hurts.
And, she can paint.
I had specifically said, for those who were attending my birthday party at the Black Sheep Inn, that gifts were not welcome: it was my friends' company that I wanted, as we watched Midge Ure strum his Fender and belt out my favourite songs.
Becca disregarded my plea. As she sat next to me, she placed a gift bag in front of me. I protested, but she said it was something that she wanted to do. I picked up the bag and moved to place it alongside my camera bag. I was thankful, but my intention was to open it later, perhaps when I returned home. But she wanted me to open it right then and there.
We say that life sometimes imitates art. Becca's gift shows that art can imitate life, and do it beautifully.
I love it.
* I'm guessing they're pine trees, but I don't know much about them. I'm a writer, not a botanist.
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