Here it is. My URL linked me to a female fiction writer from the Dakota's. My imagination took me to something that it is not fictional and that is the infamous biker gathering that disturbs Native American sacred rituals. My inspiration was based on a walk to Oregon's natural springs at Bagby where I have witnessed in the course of four years , how a stump of a tree refused to die and reinvented itself as a two slim trunks that protrude from the center of the the stump. The candles float in the vacuum of my drawing and connect to a quivering trunk revitalizing its new journey, not as a majestic old cedar or old pine growth ; nor a caricature of the late giant; but as an example of renewal.
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