Thicket Installation

Thanks to some uncharacteristic planning on my part, the thicket was trivial to install: a hole at either end had been drilled and countersunk, and could still be found despite all the grass; the screws with which I’d tested the fit were still sitting on the layout. The backdrop was a conundrum until I remembered contact cement is a thing. Then fifteen minutes later, I was pushing it home, never to be pulled off again without destruction. With the thicket in place, you can hardly see the backdrop, of course.

There is still some work left in gap filling, but this is a good time to pause and reflect. Overall, I’m pleased with the outcome. The thicket looks like a plausible bit of woods in some ground at the edge of Lee Manufacturing that was fallow for 30 years, or maybe the big trees had been taken out, but the land had never been fully cleared. Scrubby bush like this is everywhere in Ontario. I’m happy with the range of shapes and textures that lie in the Goldilocks zone between too bland and too wild.

Was it worth the work of copying individual trees? If the purpose is to get a believable stand of trees, the answer is “probably not.” Most of the trunks are hidden behind foliage, and with the exception of the pine trees, the crowns are not distinct enough to stand out. When I do the copse, I will consider alternatives to let more light through the trees.

On the other hand, if the purpose is to enjoy the modelling hobby, well the process itself was fascinating and enjoyable. Twisting armatures was an excellent summer vacation activity, enjoyed with wine in hotel rooms, with cider at the beach and with beer on the deck. Over the course of a handful of months, I became intimately familiar with many of the trees as individuals, and when I revisited the thicket when attending my brother’s wedding, it was like visiting old friends.

I look at trees everywhere with new eyes now. Maybe that is better than having a believable stand of trees. Maybe it was worth it after all.