Awed by the great American Chestnut tree, my mother felt strongly that her children should be aware of their terribly sad story. We frequently were led deep into the forest to find the ancient, abandoned husks. She called them the “Old Soldiers” and would not allow too much play around them, despite their looking like castles to us. Easily ten feet around, we wanted to use them as forts. The fact that they were to be honored was vaguely impressed upon us, but we didn’t know much about what a blight was. Millions of trees died, and the eastern half of the country changed enormously. The paintings I’ve done are from those memories in the woods, and the emotions brought up when I think of that great loss. My husband and I have two saplings planted on our property. We are ever hopeful that the blight’s horrible impact can someday be reversed.
