Oregon Road Trip

Rob Reiner: "What do they call it when everything comes together?"
Tom Hanks: "The Bermuda Triangle."
from Sleepless in Seattle

And so it was this past weekend when Bob Potts and I visited Jason Gamby, Rich List, Randy Knight, Walter Pall, and others at Oregon Bonsai in Portland Oregon this past weekend. I almost didn't go. I hate traveling, and this was going to be nine hours straight in a car with only pee breaks, followed by two days recovering and playing with trees in Oregon, then a nine hour return after a half day workshop with Walter. Facing potential financial problems at home, I finally agreed to go only if it didn't cost me anything. Jason and Bob said "No problem". What I didn't know is that it would significantly change my life, and possibly the future of the direction of bonsai in the US. Free trip? Sure, thanks guys. 

If you are just here to see the pictures, and wish to pass up this fascinating tale of trees and terror, just scroll all the way to the bottom of this page and click on the Albums at the very bottom.

Day One: The Trip Up

At least getting up at 3:30 am wasn't a big deal for me because my brain usually kicks in at that hour anyhow. Susie dropped me off in Lower Lake where we met Bob at 5am to save the hour that it would have taken to come to our house and retrieve me. The trip started out good, it was still clear and it looked like the rain might hold off until we got up there. The discussion quickly got round to the first earth shattering event: The US electorate had decided to change the course of all our futures. Now, you may think this is good or bad, but it's hard to argue that some big changes aren't in the wind. For me, it's like I can breathe again, an oppressive weight has been taken off my back. No more four hour stints reading pre election articles on the internet. I should have seen this as the omen that it turned out to be.

At dawn we turned off Rt 20 at Williams to start the long trip north on I-5 to Portland. It was a beautiful sunrise, but it was also Red Sky in the Morning, another omen. After several hours of Bob's harrowing driving, we began to rise up out of the valley and into the mountains with the snow capped Mt Shasta beckoning us with imitations of Mt Fuji. It was at this point that Bob and I both left Tierra Firma, neither of having been any farther north than this on I-5. Beware, there be  dragons out there. The mountains were beautiful with the burnt umber stripes and polka dots of Black Oaks punctuating the emerald green conifers against the threatening gray sky. We began climbing mountain passes on the broad ribbon of smooth winding highway, three thousand feet, four thousand feet. I began thinking: Snow. Well, no point dwelling on that now, perhaps the gods will smile on us on the return trip.

The trip went extremely well. No problems, it didn't start raining until we were just south of Portland and we arrived in early afternoon with enough time to see the nursery and for Bob to select some trees for the workshops Saturday and Sunday. Didn't get lost once. Excellent, so far so good. We were welcomed by Jason, a tall well built dark athletic looking 33 year old, just a baby in this business. Walter had not yet arrived so we had time to see the nursery, which is called the Farm, and Randy's collected material at his house. Not thirty seconds after getting in the house, I was holding a nice cold micro brew ale. This was going to be ok.

There was something odd about Jason's house. It appeared to be a brand new, rather nice, typical tract home with a small backyard that I could already see had some rather nice bonsai material surrounding the inside of the perimeter fence. Then it hit me- it looked like a bachelor flat. Yes, there was some nice furniture, but there was a lot more negative space here than in most family homes in America. Jason explained, he and his wife had decided to sell the house and move, but had changed their minds and now everything was in storage and was yet to be
unpacked. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but I could sense that another Bermuda Triangle opening was forming. In any case, it was quite nice and I was going to have the den with the huge sectional couch all to myself, Bob preferring  to sleep with the trees in the van, maybe getting a bit of a jump on us through osmosis.

Jason took us around the backyard first showing us the very nice collected material that he was getting from Randy as well as his own collected material, and then his original sticks in pots of only two years ago. This young man was growing by leaps and bounds, and his
enthusiasm was almost contagious. This, he assured us, was nothing, wait until we went to Randy's house.

So, refreshed, and slightly giddy from the hops and drinking too fast, I got in the truck with Jason, and Bob to head for the growing grounds called the Farm. On the seat was another brew. Umm... there was going to be trouble. Me with two beers has always been dangerous, no matter the venue. Me with two beers in a field of potential bonsai was playing with fire despite the increasing rain. Soon we arrived at a wooded area across from the site
of a clearcut. I tried hard not to denigrate Rome, not being a Roman. We turned into a drive
crossing a small creek and curiously driving through the field instead using the road. "It keeps the road in better shape" Jason assured me....Oookay.

We pulled up to the potting area after electing to try the road instead of driving through the patch of newly planted Scots pine. By now it was coming down pretty hard. Being no fool, I took my rain gear out of my pack and got ready to have fun. I have been trying to get Bob to buy rain gear for about three years now; it seems to be a futile effort. Jason, I presumed, was from the great Northwest school that just ignores the elements since his gear was a light weight jacket and a baseball cap. The fact that I looked like something out of Starwars, while they looked cool and tough, didn't dampen my appreciation for being warm and dry.

By now, the alcohol was reinforcing the hop high, and I was feeling my oats. I was getting excited. There were some pretty massive trees here and there although the leaves had just dropped from the deciduous trees and was obscuring the details of the lower trunks of tridents, elms, mume, hornbeam, and various other species. Jason was giving me a chance
to preview what Randy has been doing with field growing over the last five years or so. It was good and bad. Some things were still young, and had great potential, but the first steps had not yet been taken. In other areas, like the tridents, the three and four inch caliper trunks
often had useless balls of branches above a decent base. What it showed was that Randy had some good ideas and correct instincts about field growing, but didn't have the time or the expertise to take things to the next level. That was why I was here. I wasn't telling Jason or Randy anything they didn't already know, I was here to help them put this place back on track.

As we walked through the trees it was exciting and disappointing, exciting and disappointing. Like the tridents, the black pines showed tremendous growth in a short period of time. This part of Oregon isn't know as the nursery capitol of the US for nothing. Rows of black pine
trunks sported 4 inch caliper trunks, but then little else. The next step should have done two years ago. But it was not a lost cause. Sure, some of the pines had lost all of their bonsai
potential from shading out the lower branches and buds, but others, especially those along the edges still had received enough light to keep these low branches. This was still relatively young material despite it's massive size, and low breaks were not impossible. I would show Jason where they should have cut, and which ones could still make potential bonsai and which could be salvaged for landscape garden trees where super low branching wasn't necessary. It was fun, a BonsaiNurseryman in his natural habitat. At the end I felt refreshed and renewed. There was still a lot of potential here.

Meanwhile, Bob was zeroing in on the small amount of collected trees that Randy had stored here that would make good workshop material. It was really nice stuff, Ponderosa Pines, and Rocky Mountain Juniper. These trees had been dug sufficiently long ago that they were now
stabilized in nursery soil and would easily survive the rigors of an initial styling, or so Jason assured us. I had trouble believing it, but I took him at his word. Yes, it was good stuff and different from other collected material I had seen, but being a nurseryman, I had trouble
getting my brain out of those trees growing out there in the field. Bob found a couple trees that he thought would work without much input from me, probably recognizing that my mind was elsewhere. After about an hour, preview completed, workshop trees selected, we were back in the truck on our way to Randy's house.

After a short drive, we arrived at Randy's. Somewhere along the line, the details were getting a bit hazy, another, and larger, beer appeared. So, here I am, out of the truck, still in my Starwars black rain gear with giant beer in hand. Right on cue, the sun comes out briefly to reveal what cannot possible be true. Here in this pleasant little suburban cluster of houses was a small yard that held a collection of pines and junipers that could have been the top of the granite dome at Yosemite Falls. The top of the falls was the first time I had the humbling experience that nature also practices bonsai. Here it was again, only this time I was standing in someone's yard instead of at the top of a granite monolith at six thousand feet. These were not finished bonsai, these trees have not received a single cut made by man, except to release the roots from the soil and rock. That in itself made the experience all that more awesome. The sheer scale of these trees was overwhelming. Some
of the Ponderosa Pines were monsters with sixteen inch caliper trunks with contorted and twisting trunks and branches stretching for six feet or more, easily weighing over two hundred pounds without any soil other than the few liters of native dirt that remained after their removal.

These wild and spectacular ancient trees were potted  in small wooden boxes designed to contain the small intact rootball that accompanied each tree upon removal. When a tree was removed from a rock crevice, it would have long thin box maybe eight inches wide and four feet long. It was obvious that Randy not only knew what he was doing, he was breaking new
ground in the art and science of collecting yamadori. The health of these trees was incredible even though these trees are newly dug, months to several years ago, with only the beginnings of new growth in their new home. I thought it must be an incredible brute of a man to have packed these trees off the mountain on his back.  Then he drove up just at that moment, returning from the mountains with his latest load of new trees.

I should have know, because Jason had said Randy was tall and lanky, but here was a man that could have been chiseled from the granite himself, a six foot one, 180 pound short haired quiet man who had muscles of spun steel. Introductions were made, and after only a minute or two, Randy excused himself to reunite with his family that he hadn't seen in several weeks.

It was about then that I started to focus my attention on the junipers rather than the pines. Where the pines grab your attention with their
massive presence, the junipers have this quiet understatement of  subtle pale green winter foliage and gray deadwood. They were almost feminine next to the pine's great masculinity. But now the junipers were getting my
attention, especially a huge one right at the corner of the driveway. These were not Sierra and Desert Junipers that I am used to seeing. Although there are twists and contortions to the dominant deadwood features, they are not the wild flying bird Kimura compositions that we
have become accustomed to seeing. But that wasn't all. It was then that it struck me as I examined them more closely. It was the foliage. Here was very small delicate foliage very much different from the familiar junipers. It was so fine, that it would have been hard to believe it wasn't already grafted over to 'Shimpaku' had they not already changed to their gray green winter color. I then examined several that were under the canopy of trees and therefore still had their green summer foliage color. Incredible. If you put this foliage next to 'Itoigawa Shimpaku', you would be hard pressed to tell the two apart.  I was starting to get really excited.

I later was told that these are Juniperus scopulorum, and I will accept that for now, but I really want to do some research on these to see if we are dealing with a variant or a subspecies. In any case, I think this species of Rocky Mountain Juniper, whatever it is, is going to shake up
the world of collected bonsai.

Then it was back to Jason's house to meet Walter who had just arrived at the airport. It was good to see him again, and as this was Walter's second or third trip here, he was right at home and as charming as ever. After a very long day, we all had an excellent buffet dinner at
Jason's prepared by his partner Jennifer, and soon the long hours and lack of sleep starting catching up with me, so it was off to bed. But my brain just would not stop; it took forever to get to sleep despite my exhaustion.

Click here to see the rest of the trees at Randy's house.

Day Two: The Workshop

The next day came early for me as it always does. Awake at 4:30, I finally got up at 5:00 and started the coffee pot and tried not to wake the whole house with my early morning routines. But soon we were all awake and having bagels and cream cheese with our coffee, except for Dr. Bob who amazingly, doesn't have the caffeine habit. It had rained during the night and the sky was still gray and dark. The other workshop participants were arriving and walking around the backyard admiring Jason's trees with Walter. An almost horizontal shaft of sunlight finally managed to struggle through the clouds and made a spectacular lighting effect. We packed up our gear and headed off to the Grange Hall for a day of fun and camaraderie.

This first workshop was a small group of people invited by Jason. It included Randy, Jason, Rich List (Jennifer's brother), Bob, Lee Cheatle ( a chef as well as a talented bonsai practitioner), and myself. It was more like a
study group rather than a workshop or critique, but Walter was clearly our leader; that's why we were all there. The format was loose and comfortable. We made one round, each of us offering up a tree and Walter
performed his by now famous and familiar critique; asking us about our trees and what we thought of them, and what we wanted to see in them first, and then helping us to see that tree as well as other possibilities. We all felt free to chip in with our own comments and
suggestions. The beauty of Walter's workshops is his casual demeanor which allows you to feel comfortable about questioning him and searching out all the possibilities. This is definitely not an old school
master/novice situation, and is very suited to our Western culture.

For me, it is a test to see if I can see the possibilities before Walter points them out, and sometimes to see one that isn't even discussed in the first round. Walter is not the least put off by analyzing other points of view and will wholeheartedly embrace them if he thinks they
will lead to a good tree. It is so refreshing to stand toe to toe with one of best designers in the world and be able to do this.

It is with nursery material that I can keep up with Walter to some degree, a very satisfying feeling. But then, I have pruned and designed,
at least in my head, hundreds of thousands of nursery trees. I can usually see the tree, or multiple tree possibilities in seconds, as can
Walter. But it is with collected material, that I am usually at a loss, and it is with this material that Walter truly excels. And that is what I am really looking for from Walter these days. We talked about these things that morning, and Walter agrees. He can do with collected
material what I can do with nursery material because he has done that hundreds of thousands of times. I am just beginning to get a handle on wild material that just doesn't fall into any recognized category when you
begin. Working with this material is extremely difficult, and that is why people like Walter are so valuable to us.

Randy brought a couple of his collected trees as well as one of his Farm raised European hornbeams, a really excellent tree with a large
strong moving trunk almost perfectly proportioned in its bends and twists. I guess I admired it a little too much because he gave it to me. It is a tree that I will cherish and try to do justice.

It wasn't very long before the floor and tables were covered with slash, water and mud, and rising above it proudly were the newborn skeletons of future bonsai, some of which held the potential to be spectacular bonsai. At lunchtime, we called it a day, cleaned up and repaired to the local Chinese restaurant before heading off to Randy's house for an
afternoon of salivating over his trees with Walter at hand to give his opinions. But before we left, the local contingent realized that it would be bad form if we didn't make an appearance at the Bonsai Society of Portland's show at the Japanese Garden in the park. So, first to Randy's, then off to the show.

You can see the rest of the workshop trees here.

When we got to Randy's, the rain had stopped and the afternoon sun was casting golden shifts of light on those enormous trees. As an extra treat, Randy had unloaded the bounty of his latest collecting trip and we got to see what they look like even before they were potted up. Randy is the most responsible collector I have ever met. He won't collect a tree unless it has a very high chance of survival. Typically, over 90% of the trees he collects survive. He has spent a great deal of time and effort developing the skills and techniques necessary to achieve this.
And this has turned around my thinking about collected trees. Up to now, I have never collected a yamadori, and thought that I never would. Call me a tree hugger, but I just didn't want the responsibility for killing what nature took hundreds of years to grow. I later talked to Randy about this. He's an avid hunter, and he wanted to know if I hunted too, knowing full well that that can be a minefield to explore with some people. As it turns out, I was a hunter when I was young, starting when I was only five years old. I learned to be responsible for the lives of
animals I killed just like Randy is responsible for the lives of the trees  he collects. But as I
grew older, I stopped hunting. I told him that the world around me had just grown too small, hunting in what is, in essence, our garden no longer held any attraction for me. It is this feeling that extends to collecting for me. That feeling is changing now that I see it can be done responsibly and with such a high survival rate. Now I own a small Rocky Mountain Juniper
that will grace my bonsai bench, and if it survives and thrives, as he assures me that it will, then there may be others.

Randy and Walter are convinced that these pines and junipers will survive in many other parts of the US and the world. The track record is impressive and increasing. These species don't seem to have the problems of the Sierra and desert junipers, which very few people can collect successfully. Randy has sold trees both north and south, hot climates and wet climates and the trees are doing well.  When they fail, he can almost always trace it to the failure to completely repot and remove the original soil according the schedule that he recommends.

After Walter finished looking at his new crop collected for him by Randy, and I finished up my photos, and closer examination of the junipers and pines, we packed up and headed off to the Japanese Garden and the BSOP Show. By the time we got there it was dark and the critique by Michael Hagedorn had just begun. It was a good show, the display area was very impressive, a large Japanese style hall in natural wood with screens behind all the exhibits. Each bonsai was in its own tokonoma display. Some of the collected trees from the area were especially good as you can see from the photos below. Eventually Jason found   the location of the display of trees on loan from the Pacific Rim Collection. It was completely dark now and the light made ghostly images of the beautiful trees, but with flash photography, some very unusual photos were obtained that you can see here.

The rest of the BSOP photos can be seen here.

Exhausted once again, we go home to Jason's and Jennifer's, and still stuffed from our huge Chinese lunch, we skip dinner and  try to find the meaning of life instead. If you put a couple of bottles of red wine in front of Walter and me, you deserve anything you get. And sure enough, a wild far ranging discussion of bonsai, life, sex, drugs, education, and our destinies filled the next three hours. I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. After two exhausting days of operating on adrenalin and coffee, overwhelmed with new possibilities for bonsai, friends, and business, I was the consummate motor mouth, even putting Walter to shame, but he did his best to keep up.

Sleep was easier coming this night, but the Bermuda Triangle hadn't closed yet. I was going to spend the next morning alone with Randy, mano a mano. Good thing I didn't know what was coming.

Day Three: The Farm

The second workshop was to be held in Portland about an hour away, and Jason had kept telling me that Randy wanted to talk to me. I wasn't really signed up for this workshop and had already had a good session with Walter, so I said if they could get me to Portland by noon to head south for the long drive home, I would be free for Randy, and Randy gladly agreed
to do that. At 8:00 am we all loaded up. Randy and I headed out to the Farm while everyone else headed to Portland with Walter for the second workshop.

Randy hadn't had breakfast, so we stopped at the nearby restaurant, and we talked while Randy ate and I had yet more coffee. This was a good move. It gave me a chance to really talk to Randy and find out what makes him tick and he was doing the same. Like Walter, Randy is another corporate dropout. Also like Walter, this gives him a formidable set of business skills, something I never had, and almost too late, had to learn to succeed in my business. We talked about a lot of things in that hour that we sat across from each other at that table, business, apprentices, customers, relationships, family, as well as horticulture.
He is an incredible and unusual character, someone I hope to get to know better in the coming years. He has this quiet and unrelenting focus. He has a good idea of what he wants and he doesn't mind picking your brain to help him get there. At the same time he is absolutely clear and honest about this and you soon know that this is someone that you can trust implicitly. This is not something that is common in the business world, and it is a treasure to find it.

At last we got up to go and headed out to the farm, only a few minutes away. Having already been here once helped us cut right to the chase. We went from section to section, Randy telling me what he had done and what the results were, and asking me what I thought about the plants and their potential from the bonsai, landscape, and business point of view. I was in my natural habitat again, and it was both fun and exciting to be able to answer his questions, speculate, help him dream of making this part of the operation a success too. It was a very intense two hours of continuous give and take. We went right up to the last minute, but finally we had to leave to get Portland so that Bob and I could get back to Lake County at a decent hour. Little did we know that the Bermuda Triangle would get us again.

The Trip Home

Randy got me to Portland on time, but by the time we ate lunch, visited some more, and finally said our goodbyes, we were a little over an hour late in leaving. With any luck we could still be home around 11 or midnight. Unfortunately no luck was forthcoming. It started raining again, really hard this time, and the traffic was practically bumper to bumper on I-5 all the way from Portland to Medford, but still moving at a pretty good clip. I tried not to think about the fact that we were often only feet from other vehicles going 70 mph in a driving rainstorm. We hit Medford just after dark, and then as we came to Ashland, the chain restriction signs were up, but were still only for towed vehicles and big rigs. Maybe we could make it. It was about 37F at this elevation and would clearly be freezing on the passes. We went a few miles more just south of Ashland, then the traffic stopped. We were about four cars back and were trying to
figure out what was going on. Apparently, a big rig had stalled on the grade and they stopped traffic until they could remove it. Meanwhile it was continuing to rain slightly and was getting colder. After about twenty minutes we heard on the short wave radio that once the rig was pushed to the side, the highway would go to full chain restrictions. We were dead in the water. No chains; too late to buy any; both of us had to be back the next morning.

We turned around and went back to Ashland to consider our options. It didn't seem like we were going to be able to get chains, so I-5 was out. The only other route that I knew was to head over to the coast and go down Highway 101, which would add hours to the already delayed trip. Bob called his wife and had her check for road conditions on Hwy 199 that
goes from Grant's Pass over the Coastal Mountains to Crescent City on the coast. Looked like it was still open. This lower elevation route which was close to the ocean should present no snow difficulties....we hoped. It had been about twelve years since I last had traveled that highway and that was in summer. So, we turned around, backtracked the forty miles to
Grant's Pass and found Hwy 199 without incident. It was disappointing and we were getting tired. Once we got to the ridge tops in the mountains, the wind was blowing like hell and there was debris all over the road. It was slow going, but we were making it. Then around a curve
there was a loud deep thud. We had hit a rock that neither of had seen. That was close.

Another mile of two more, we realized we hadn't really escaped as that unmistakable sound of a tire going flat sunk in. Here we were, pitch black night, miles from civilization, around a curve, still partly on the road and we had to change the front left tire in that driving wind.
Ok, we can do this. We open the back of the van, and the first thing we have to do is unload the trees to even get to the tire and tools. Finally we manage this, and changing the tire goes pretty smoothly. I am holding the flashlight and try to alert oncoming traffic as it appears
around the curve. Fortunately, folks were driving pretty slowly and we didn't feel too threatened. By the time we got the tire changed and the trees loaded again (I made Bob do a head count), we had lost yet another hour.

The spare was one of those little emergency tires, so we didn't dare go very fast for the rest of the trip, making it almost agonizingly slow. We finally got to Crescent city and cell service again about 8:30. We called our wives and told them don't wait up for us. It was going to be at least another five hours, maybe more. Outside Eureka, we gassed up again, Dr. Clean decided he would have to dose up with a little caffeine, and I got a juice, not trusting my tummy with food under the circumstances. Back on the road again, I started getting really tired, trying desperately not to go to sleep so I could keep talking to Bob to keep him from falling asleep. But he assured me he was doing ok.

I started counting down the towns after Eureka. I've lived here a long time and been to a lot of these places. At each new place we came to, I tried to remember a story about being there with Susie, or the dogs, camping trips, restaurants, whatever. Once we reached Lake County at the top of the Blue Lakes grade, I started waking up again. I don't know if it was relief or I had actually got a little sleep in those one second drowsing off sessions during quiet moments. We rolled into my yard at 2:30 in the morning. Bob probably didn't get home until after well after 3am.

Hopefully the door to the Bermuda Triangle is closed for awhile. It's now evening the next day as I sit here typing this, trying to make a record of this incredible, wonderful, and awful journey. I have this feeling that this is something that I will want to remember for a very long time, and this journal may help me to do it. I expect big things to come from Randy, Jason, and Oregon Bonsai. If you haven't heard of them yet, you will soon, I guarantee it!

Brent

Comments

[Bob Pontis]

Great story. Nothing like a good road trip to stir up the juices again.......

[bob]

that's the way it was, and you wrote it up much better than I ever could. I'll just link here from my blog, if I ever get around to updating it.

Trish says she's glad someone else get's ulcers with Bob's driving.

I wasn't THAT close to the other cars. - bob

[Brent]

Bob

The only reason that I wasn't petrified was that I used to drive like that as a teenager, but that was a loooong time ago.

Brent

[Rich]

Brent- Wow. What a great article. As I missed most of your visit, I am glad I got to share in the excitement. Thanks for making the trip up, and I look forward to seeing you and Bob again soon. Rich

[Darrell Walker]

Hi Brent,

Thanks for sharing your trip. Glad you made it to the area, and it was fun to meet you and Bob! Sorry the trip back was more than you were hoping for.

-Darrell

[Paul]

Great Story guys! Brent and Bob, looks like you made a few friends who will be expecting your company a few more times. Guess that means I can look forward to a few more good stories and great pics!
Thanks

[Bill Nelson]

Great, great story! The photographs are outstanding and a real help.

Thanks for the effort to get this up for us to read and salivate over.

Bill

[Jay Gettinger]

Brent, thanks for sharing. Bermuda Triangle or not, it sounds like a wonderful time out there on the left coast. Someday I need to visit....I will be re-visiting for the pixs over and over.
Jay

[Graydon]

Wow. Has got to be one of the best blog entries I have ever read. Almost as if we were there with you, sharing all of the experiences. Thanks for taking the time to put down all of the details of such a great trip.

I really need to make it to the west coast. My fear (for lack of a better term) is that once I make the trip I may never come back home to sunny Florida. Perhaps one day I may have the opportunity to wander among some of these great examples of american trees.

And Brent, don't sell the dogs. Rent them. At least that way you get them back.

[Jason Gamby]

Hi Brent,

Good writing!!! I enjoyed meeting you and Bob and had a great time. Thanks for coming up and I look forward to future visits. I am sure this blog will be enjoyed by many!!

Jason

[criss]

thanks for sharing Brent! so much alive the naration that i feel i was there with all you! close or not to the cars,it was also very close to great trees and people!
thanks again! criss

[Walter Pall]

Brent,

thank you for writing all this. I sure enjoyed the days. Next year we try to get the same at your place.
I look forward to it.

greetings
Walter

[david d]

Great article and fantastic pics! Thanks for sharing.

David

[Becky]

Wow! Sounds like you had a blast. Too see so many gorgeous trees in one place....Unfortunately I can only live through others eyes, lol.

[Jerry Emra]

Hello,
I thought the article and pictures were great. I am looking for a place to find some great bonsai trees for training. Can you send me some info for any future work shops? Thank you.