Twisted Trunks
My relationship with aspen trees is a bit of a love–hate affair. I love them in the mountains. I hate them in suburban landscapes. The trees themselves are lovely. The round leaves make the most wonderful noises as they clip and rustle like organic coins colliding in a summer breeze. The airy light that passes through an aspen glade on a summer afternoon feels spiritual, calming, and edifying. I am perpetually fascinated by the flaming display that ignites the mountain landscape in autumn. Vernal emergence of their foliage…