papers, graphite, ink, gold leaf, velvet, string, coloured pencil,  thread, 49 x 53 inches.

My friend Liz gave Luke and me a fig tree when we got married. We planted it in a puny pot in the back garden. Its roots have grown through the bottom of the pot and deep into the earth. It has twined its branches around the stairway railings and has danced with coiling  jasmine.  I have loved this tree. The sweet scents of jasmine and fig intermingling. The delicious figs when plump and ripe. The sprawling green canopy. The beautiful swaying shapes. Watching it grow and expand from year to year has been exciting.  It has grown with us as a family. Now we are going to have to leave and it is very painful.  The only way not to mourn too much is to make one for myself. This one has my feet on the bottom instead of roots. It is so that I can keep it in my soul because of course the real one cannot come with us. It breaks my heart that someone might cut this gorgeous tree down that I have cultivated with so much love.