Every once in a while you hit on an image that resonates with something deep inside. That’s how it was for me with Blooming Deadwood. Ever since I moved to the Los Gatos Area I loved driving along Blossom Hill Road. I say drive as this stretch of the road is nestled up so closely to the foothills that there really is no space to walk. There is a patch of old cherry trees gone wild and one in particular was black and gnarled with age and perhaps not even alive. Every spring I thought, it wouldn’t bloom and every spring it did. I felt a resonance in the spirit of this tree, my own aging and that of my grandmother who was handling her declining health with the same strength and grace. Finally, I felt compelled to navigate the cars and photograph it. I painted it in my studio. The following year it did not bloom, the year after it was chopped down. For me it represented tenacious endurance and beauty found even at the end of a life’s struggle.