Things have been pretty quiet in the studio, but I did hear the twin aspens on the right call over to Ms. Aspen to thank her for expediting the arrival of their “clothes.”  She acknowledged them with little more than a sniff.  I thought she could have been more pleasant.

In the distance below, some houses appeared on the coastline of Norris Point.  Don’t some folks have an idyllic place to live?

I was working on the lichen-crusted trunk of the largest tree, when it spoke up.  I nearly dropped my brush!

“If you don’t mind me saying so, we need a perch around here.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“We need a perch around here, I say.  Why don’t you flatten the top of that big rock so folks can sit a spell and enjoy the view?  It would do them a world of good.”

“That’s a capital idea!  I’ll get right on that next week.”

“And another thing, where is all the ‘tracery’ you talked about earlier?  Anybody knows that a significant tree like me casts shadows.”

“Hold on, buddy.  I can’t do everything at once.”

“And what’s all this talk I heard you and Mr. McDonald doing today?  You were saying something about putting me on e-Bay?  Now, don’t get any ideas in your head of yanking me out like you did Ms. Aspen.  I like it here by this bay . . . the Norris Point bay.”

“Not to worry, Ms. Guardian of the Path.  You’re in just the right spot!  But thanks for your idea of the perch.”

Have you ever wished you could move a full-grown tree to a better spot in some particular setting?  Well, I just did!

With my own bare hands, I dragged the aspen tree at least 25’ straight ahead and planted it!  Yes, Sir, that’s a fact!  Ms. Aspen put up quite a fuss when she found out what I was planning to do, but when I told her she would be closer to her kin across the path, she waved a branch, which I took to mean, “Well, if you must.”

As I started the excavation work, Ms. Aspen implored:  “Now, don’t be clumsy.  I’ve just donned my spring frock, as you very well know, and I intend to look my best the whole season long.  None of this modern ripped-out-at-the-knee style for me, or broken off twigs like some shaggy hair cuts I see.  I won’t have it, I tell you.”

I assured her that I would be as careful with her as I was with my very first dollie.  That seemed to settle her down.

After placing Ms. Aspen in her new location, and tamping the earth firmly around her, I gave her a refreshing drink of water.  She felt more like herself, and smoothed out her petticoats before she squinted at her cousins  across the path.

“Oh, no!” she gasped.  “My cousins look worse than manikins in a store front! Get a move on, do!  Quick!  Put some “clothes” on them before somebody comes down this path.  I don’t see why you dawdled around painting that rock and the spruce trees.  How on earth could you be so thoughtless?”

Ms. Aspen wasn’t such a bad old soul, you know.  There aren’t enough of her kind who will risk offending you by telling you the truth.

Why, after her brusque speeches, I even got to liking the old spinster a bit.

See the outline of tree trunks on the right side of the painting?  You’ve guessed it!  There will be more of her worthy clan—-aspens—-by the next time you check out this blog.

The old spinster, Ms. Aspen Tree, shoved what would have been the middle pine tree right off the canvas!

Swipe.  Dab-dab.  Dab-dab.  It’s gone, just like that!  Oh my.  When Ms. Aspen comes along, tapping that old cane of hers, you don’t argue.  No, Sir.

But she wasn’t through with me yet.

“These hills have more than pine trees on them,” she croaked.  “It’s only fittin’ that I should represent the worthy aspens of Gros Morne, even if I am bow-legged.”

“All right.  All right,” I said.  “You’ve got a point.”

“You bet I’ve got a point,” she continued.  “Why don’t you leave the boat ride for another day?  Can’t you see that folks are all loaded down with their fancy cameras? There’s no prettier place around these parts than at Norris Point.  Folks ought to see it!  They really should!

She squinted her eyes, looked me up and down, with one hand on her hip, and asked, “Now, tell me.  How come you didn’t think of that, Mrs. McDonald?”