“For the artist, there is no insignificant thing.” 
― Marty Rubin

There is a small wooded area on the island where we live. One of the last wooded spots that, through some miracle has escaped development. It’s not a beautiful spot, by most people’s standards. No creek or marsh, no great ocean view. Nothing of significance.

But that insignificance is what makes it beautiful.

It is made up of oaks, palms and pines interwoven with spindly trees of unknown pedigree, each looking for a small patch of light. It is overgrown with vines and shrubs and mistletoe and moss. It is wild and untamed and chaotic in the way that nature can only compose. It is rare and unique.

And when the late afternoon sunlight shines through and over and around all of this chaos… it is absolutely enchanting.