Poison Oak

A few days ago I came across a picture I took while running in Phillip Burton Wilderness last year, and was inspired to paint it because I could remember the exact thoughts and feelings I had while taking the picture. I had stopped in the middle of the trail for no reason other than to take in my surroundings (Thomas often asks me why it takes three hours for me to go on what should hypothetically be a one hour run, this is why) and was so overcome by the way – from exactly where I was standing – the trees showcased the sky perfectly, as if to simultaneously protect me and open up to me the vastness of the world beyond my little patch of dirt.

Philosophical and metaphysical thoughts aside — I came home from this run and had – obviously – contracted poison oak. It seems that every time I’m out on in the trails in Northern California (which, for better or worse, is a lot of the time) I manage to get poison oak, despite my best efforts to avoid all poison-oak-looking vegetation. The ironic thing is that, as I sat at my desk painting this image, I keep having to pause to apply “extra-strength” hydrocortisone cream to various parts of body because – guess what! – I have awful poison oak. Is this… a coincidence? Or is it fate?!?!??!?! Either way, let me know @God how I can stop contracting this awful itchy rash (besides avoiding nature, of course, in which case I’ll suck it up and smell like aloe for the rest of my life).






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