From which corner in the woods is best viewed that unexpected glance of truth? Who can be intelligent enough to avoid his preconception of a tree? I work in the indefinable freedom of interpretation, for I trust in the nature of the woodlands enough to know that as my imagination opens so will that of my viewer. In the woods the leaf eats light. In the presence of this sacred process, in the presence of leaves like eyes, are the shadows of ultimate visions. For a long, long time the woodland hills have wound round their spiral, round and round the days, months, and seasons.