R o b e r t D r u c k e r A r t

Beaches and Forests, 2019-26

Out on the Olympic peninsula, the forest comes right down to the sea. Though heavily logged, there remain here some of the last wild coasts of North America, covens and monasteries of eternal life. It’s here that western red cedars play in the nurseries of fallen logs, until they can stand on their own majestic feet. Ancient cedars may house whole ecosystems of huckleberry, epiphytes, and Douglas fir that never know the ground. These are the grande dames of the coast, clad in their mossen gowns of glowing green.

“Around me the trees stir in their leaves

and call out, “Stay awhile.”

The light flows from their branches.

And they call again, “It’s simple,” they say,

“and you too have come

into the world to do this, to go easy, to be filled

with light, and to shine.”

—Mary Oliver, When I am among the trees