When I was 22 years old, I moved on the bus by myself to northern Alberta, for my new job researching aspen trees for a forest company. A young woman in brand new work boots, I felt anxious to prove myself. During my first week, I was sent to pick up one of the company trucks from the shop. The man looked over the counter and asked if I was even old enough to have a driver’s license.

It was just the start of a long month of assuring people of my abilities - of course I could drive a manual transmission, of course I could back up a big trailer, of course I wasn’t afraid of a few bears - while secretly convincing myself that these things were true.

I dug hundreds of holes by hand with a shovel. I mended fences, always looking over my shoulder for mother moose or bears, and was bitten by approximately one million mosquitoes. I got my truck stuck in the mud an embarrassing number of times.

But one day when my boss was sick, I was pulled from my day of digging holes to ride in a helicopter in his place and take photos. When I saw the aspen forests from above, it was the moment when fell in love with the northern landscapes, a love that has stuck with me many years later. My boots got worn in and worn out, I made new friends, and they helped me winch my truck out of the mud until I was experienced enough to help them pull theirs out too. 

I chose the aspen leaf as my art logo to remember my connection to the north, but also because I see the aspen tree as a symbol of community and resilience. These amazing stands look like individual trees, but are often one large genetically distinct individual, stretching for hundreds of miles. Aspen stands can live for tens of thousands of years, connected by the roots, and are thought to be the largest and oldest living things on our planet.

As many of you know, I stamp an aspen leaf onto the back of each painting to honor the idea of community and my own roots as a forester.  Enjoy my new mixed media series dedicated to this beautiful tree!