Susan Jefts

Growing up in the southern Adirondacks of New York State, the mountains and water were an ever-present part of my family life. I’m sure there were times when we saw them mainly as a backdrop and a place to recreate, but very often, they felt to us like family members; dynamic and shifting each day in color, tone, texture, and mood. It was hard to not be aware of the mountain enclosed lake we lived near without some degree of awe and respect, and, on its wilder days, trepidation. Having returned here in recent years to live, I find all of this to still be true. And it’s only been in these recent years that I’ve begun forming intimate relationships with individual trees and plants. This began gradually, and has evolved to almost daily exchanges with those that live near my mountainside home. While the lake and its mountains still evoke in me grand ideas and send my imagination soaring, it is specific plants and trees that open my heart. Sometimes I feel a sense of being called, beckoned to come close and listen, touch, or just be still. Sometimes words come to mind, sometimes a kind of music, sometimes nothing in particular. But almost always there is an exchange that takes place. A feeling of mutual awareness and presence, and just plain sweetness.