There was a row of poplars near Monet's home; he painted them often. When they were about to be cut down, he bought the trees, or the property, so he could keep on painting them. (Once again, I am hazy on the facts!) I understand because of the poplars we can see from our house in Michigan. They are always changing. Trees are young and old. They grow in genetically identical clusters, so each group of them moves together through the seasons in a uniform way. In spring they are silvery as the buds expand. In autumn they turn various golds and then release pale yellow disks of aspen leaves to float or tumble across the landscape. The green rustle of summer aspen leaves is one of the most soothing sounds you can imagine. My photos of them are endlessly fun to play with; this one has been modified by a Nik violet filter. Not more beautiful then they were in autumn, but a pleasure to look at in winter, when they are far away from my California home.