*Maple
Tree of Life
wood carving and painting by Tracy Lytle
Maple
Day 24 — March 4
Prior to our marriage, I enjoyed fake maple syrup until Elizabeth said it was disgusting and ruined it for me. It didn’t take long for me to adopt her authentic taste in tree sap and agree it was definitely worth it to buy the expensive stuff. She adored maple syrup and anything with maple syrup in it—especially maple walnut fudge.
There is something sacramental about feasting on maple syrup made from sap—literally the life-blood of the tree. Filled with minerals and nutrients, the sap carries energy out into the branches in springtime when the new buds are forming.
A companion to the sap’s sweetness is the beauty of the tree itself, with distinctly shaped leaves divided into three, five, or seven jagged lobes. Think Canadian flag.
And in Elizabeth’s home turf of Ohio, the maple trees are among the most brilliant in the autumn, such that when we moved to Denver we planted in the back yard of a previous home a red maple imported from the east. Upon a bit more thought, I just realized that each of the five places we lived in our 29 years was home to at least one maple tree.
So it is that Elizabeth and I truly loved trees, as well as art that depicted trees. When seeking a Christmas gift for Elizabeth in 2020—four months after her heart transplant—this art piece made from a tree itself called out to me. A colleague of mine, Teri Hermsmeyer, had posted a link to her sister’s art website, and I immediately placed an order for this Tree of Life by Tracy Lytle Woodesign, a Colorado artist in Estes Park. It is stunning.
I will always remember this Tree of Life as the last gift that I gave to my wife—a timeless symbol that has been rooted in so many of our world’s cultures and mythologies and religions.
The Tree of Life symbol represents our personal development, uniqueness and individual beauty. Just as the branches of a tree strengthen and grow upwards to the sky, we too grow stronger, striving for greater knowledge, wisdom and new experiences as we move through life. All trees begin life in the same way, yet as they grow older, they weather nature’s forces and develop in their own unique and beautiful ways. —Ishka Blog
Day 24: the art of love and loss
view all posts at kentmueller.com
February 10, 2020, was the day my wife, Elizabeth Izant, entered the hospital. She and I were on a hopeful journey following her heart transplant five months prior. On March 1, she entered hospice and died March 11. This series is not about her medical journey. This is about sharing stories and reflections about our life together. In our 29 years of marriage, we collected a piece of art or two each year, often in celebration of our marriage anniversary. Each day from February 10 to March 11, I will be sharing an image of that art. And a story.