Toenails…who needs them?

Toenails…who needs them?

by Wil Bosbyshell

There was a time in my life when my relationship with my toenails became very strained. They were not happy and let me know it. 

I am a shower man. I take very few baths, but this was an emergency. I was soaking in the bathtub and guzzling Gatorade to recover from the heat of the day. After an hour, I was beginning to relax and lifted my feet out of the water to prop them on the edge of the tub. Something felt strange; I looked at my feet and noticed that all my toenails were gone. 

Who was tougher, me or my toenails – that was the question. I knew exactly when I lost my toenails, but I felt nothing when it happened. Boy, I was in a tough spot….. that was for sure.

It was July 1984, and I was a 2nd Lieutenant in the US Army. Completing the Field Artillery officers’ basic course in Fort Sill Oklahoma, I had earned a slot to attend airborne School in Fort Benning Georgia. Army Airborne School is a three-week course where you learn how to jump out of planes in full combat gear. I was there now… in the bathtub. 

It was the first week of Airborne School and I was in the best physical shape of my life. I could do 80 pushups in two minutes; 80 sit-ups in two minutes; and run 2 miles in under 13 minutes in running shoes or combat boots. I could walk or hike in army boots literally all day with a variety of packs. Even at this level of physical condition, Airborne School was challenging. You could say it was kicking my butt. In South Georgia the temperature hovered at just over and under 100 degrees. It was hot! It was not dry heat; the humidity was 100%. 

The heat and humidity were a challenge, but they were not my main challenge. After all, I was a native Floridian and accustomed to this weather. 

My real problem was Navy Seals. My jump class was half full of them. Navy Seals have a reputation for being the toughest people on the planet. It's a well-deserved reputation; they really are very tough. Unfortunately, in Airborne School the Navy Seals ran into an in-movable object: Army Drill Instructors or DIs for short. If Basic Training Drill Instructors are super tough, then Army Airborne Drill Instructors are even tougher. Drill Instructors also have a reputation for being the toughest people on the planet. Their reputation is also well-deserved. At the time, before I began Airborne School, I thought that I was tough. Now judging myself wimpy, I was caught in the middle, between the two toughest groups of people in the world. Guess who was losing... me and my toenails.

The goal of the first week of Airborne School is to get everyone in shape and learn the basic skills required to jump out of a plane. (I will not debate in this story the mental state necessary to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I will leave that to mental health professionals.) This involves a lot of running and calisthenics. The Drill Instructors were in charge. They wanted us to know they were tough. This rankled the Navy Seals who wanted to embarrass the Airborne Drill Instructors. 

The Drill Instructors and the Navy Seals locked horns early. 

When the Drill Instructors ordered us to do 20 pushups, the Seals upped the ante raising it to 40 pushups. In the first three days of this macho-fest about 20% of the class quit or washed out. After we ran two miles, the Seals would yell how easy it was, so we would run two more. 

The competition between the Drill Instructors and the Navy Seals reached a painful crescendo on the fourth day. Our company failed uniform inspection and were sent to the gig pit. The gig pit was a football filed sized area filled with saw dust.

I lost count of how many push-ups, sit-ups, squat thrusts and jumping jacks we did. Four hours passed in the gig pit. As mentioned before, it was around 100 degrees, so to keep us from dying, the DIs sprayed water on us with hoses. In theory this prevented heat stroke. Warped logic or Stockholm Syndrome caused me to think spraying us with water was nice of them. 

My toenails hung in there like champions for a long time. But wet army boots filled with wet sawdust and jumping jacks were a deadly combination for my poor toenails. I believe my toenails and I parted ways sometime around 600 jumping jacks that day in the gig pit. It didn't even hurt, or it didn't hurt any more than the rest of my body considering all my other pain. 

That evening as we did our post duties, all the Privates (and PFCs) who weren't Navy Seals came to me and begged me to do something. I agreed. None of us would survive this competition between the Navy Seals and the Army Airborne Drill Instructors. We would die, or worse, wash out of Airborne School.

The next morning, I pulled aside two of the senior Navy Seal Petty Officers. Not to put a fine point on this, I begged. I pleaded with the Navy Seals to let the Drill Instructors win the toughness competition. I told them that they were, indeed, the toughest people on the planet. Everyone knew this, including the Airborne Drill Instructors. They were unconvinced and stone faced. I had a few things going against me and my argument. First, I was a 2nd Lieutenant and 2nd Lieutenants are not held in high regard by anyone in the army. Second, the Navy Seals were just getting warmed up. They wanted to kick some Drill Instructor ass. I knew whose ass was getting kicked. 

I lied and told them that I was not worried about myself, but I was very worried about the non-Navy SEAL privates in the company. They would have a hard time graduating if they washed out. Some of the privates were on their third try at Airborne School, so washing out would end their chances of graduating. Three unsuccessful attempts would upset their new military careers. Then I pulled out all the stops. I mentioned that the group who was truly the toughest would show mercy to the less fortunate. The real toughest group would be confident in their toughness and not need to prove it to anyone. 

The Navy Seal Petty Officers walked away in discussion. I tried to look pathetic, worthless and weak, living up to the 2nd Lieutenant stereotype. They had not given me an answer when the Drill Instructors called the company to 1st formation. We fell into our assigned spots. 

After roll call and announcements, the Drill Instructor issued the first exercise command of the day. I could tell the Drill Instructors were geared up to continue the showdown with the Navy Seals. The company responded normally and started the exercise. No challenge came from the Navy Seals. 

I held my breath. Everyone, who was not a Navy SEAL, held their breath. I could tell that the Drill Instructors were a little surprised though they barely showed it. However, I believe they were also relieved …. after all they had won! I am not sure what the Navy Seals were thinking but I was thinking, hell, I won. I might now actually make it through airborne School.

I did in fact make it to jump week and completed my 5 jumps. Jumping out of a plane is truly amazing. You get a hit of adrenaline when you jump out. Figuratively, you have just killed yourself, so yeah, adrenaline is called for. Then you get another rush of adrenaline when your parachute opens, and your life is saved. It is wondrous to look up, past your feet, to see the giant tail fin of a C140 cargo plane pass closely over you. The plane seemed to move very slowly: time dilation. 

My parents and my sister came to see the final jump and graduation on July 5th. My toenails grew back by the end of October. It was nice to see them again. 

Epilogue

I thought I was in shape in Airborne School. I was a wimp. After a year and a half as a Lieutenant in Alaska I was really in shape. The Airborne unit in Alaska I was assigned to, transitioned to an Air-Assault unit. So, I signed up for the one-time-only Air-assault School at Fort Richardson. On the final day of the two-week school, we had to run 25 miles in full pack and gear in combat boots. Not too hard. After a year in the army, it’s hard to believe, but I thought nothing of it. I easily finished in the prescribed time. 

I arrived home that night to discover my toenails had turned black. The next day they all fell off again! Would they ever forgive me? They did and grew back. My toenails and I are now best of friends. 

Photo: Airborne School Graduation, July 5 1984, Bill and Wil Bosbyshell

Hike & Sketch - Carolina Thread Trail

 

Join local artist Wil Bosbyshell and the Carolina Thread Trail for a nature sketching hike at the Duke Kimbrell Trail and Daniel Stowe Conservancy. The program will start with a quick sketching demonstration by Wil, then the group will hike out and use the remaining program time to sketch "en plein air" (outdoors)! All necessary sketching materials will be provided, and attendees will get to keep their sketchbook at the end of the program.

Meeting Location: Daniel Stowe Conservancy Trailhead Store

Trail Name: Duke Kimbrell Trail   

Address: Daniel Stowe Botanical Garden- 6500 S New Hope Rd, Belmont, NC 28012

Time: 9:30am-11am

Program Type: Hike and Sketch

Distance: 1 mile Age Restrictions? None  

Dogs allowed? Yes

Bathrooms available? Yes, a little bit of a walk

What to bring/wear: Comfortable walking clothing, hat, water, hiking chair (something to sit on)

What is provided: Small Sketch book to keep, color pencils to use on the hike

LINK to sign up: https://secure.qgiv.com/for/nationaltrailsday2025/event/hikeandsketch/

 

Between the Leaves with Wil Bosbyshell

By Alexandra Smith

A few years ago, I wrote a memory on a slip of paper and hung it from the Memory Tree. It was placed as an interactive centerpiece in the debut of Climate Conversations, an exhibition by artist Wil Bosbyshell.

There was a magnolia tree in my grandparents’ front yard in Greensboro, North Carolina. They left that farm when I was seven, yet some memories still feel crisp, like an early spring morning. I remember gathering fallen pecans in the backyard, hanging flowers and herbs from the rafters in the basement, and swinging from the pulleys in the hay barn. But it’s the magnolia I return to most.

Glossy, leathery leaves camouflaged my movements from supervising eyes. Dinner plate blossoms filled the air with perfume. I was small enough then to reach the top, where the branches bowed but held. Within that private hideaway, I discovered my own Universe, shielded from everything by beauty and bark.

“Everyone has a relationship with a specific tree,” Wil says. “Throughout our lives, trees sustain us spiritually, by offering beauty, strength, and renewal.”

A Charlotte-based artist, professor, and lifelong hiker, Wil Bosbyshell has the instincts of a naturalist combined with the precision of a draftsman. His art grows from a lifelong relationship with the natural environment. 

Portrait by Melissa Key

“I’ve always been enamored with the outdoors,” he says. As a child growing up in Florida, he spent long days in the woods and marshes with friends and family. “My friends and I built amazing tree forts,” he recalls. “We had multiple-story forts that spanned several trees.”

Where others might pass without pause, Wil observes, translating the soul of the forest with pencil and paper. He's spent the last decade developing two bodies of work: The Hike Series and Climate Conversations. Both reflect on the landscapes of North Carolina and the Southeast, where he continues to hike solo, with his family, and with local Scout troops. “There’s a tremendous amount of beauty and so many great hiking trails in this part of the country,” he says, pointing to the Carolina Thread Trail and Mountain to Sea Trail as personal favorites.

The Hike Series features dozens of petite colored pencil sketches of vistas encountered while hiking North Carolina’s winding paths. Wil records vivid greens, purple shadows, and golden sunbeams, providing portals into the forests and fields he sees along his way.

In contrast, Climate Conversations zooms in. These detailed pencil studies of individual trees focus on exploration and presence. Some drawings take as little as four hours, while the larger ones reach six feet tall and take over a year. He approaches each mark with meticulous intention. “I do a lot of erasing,” Wil shares. “I even have an eraser gun.”

Though they may appear photorealistic, Wil resists the idea that his drawings are portraits. They are more like visual meditations filtered through memory and divine proportions.

His process unfolds in two parts: abstraction and the tangible. He begins by rubbing paper directly on a tree’s bark, allowing its surface to imprint abstract marks. “Exploring texture is my favorite part,” he says. “But shape and form come next.”

Over time, this body of work has grown into a forest of reflection. Climate Conversations is now a traveling exhibition and just finished its third iteration at the Regina A. Quick Center for the Arts at St. Bonaventure University in New York.

Regardless of the venue, Wil makes the space come alive. Wandering through the exhibition, you'll see trees on fabric hung from the ceiling. They flutter softly, reflecting the serenity of the canopy outside. And on the walls, his drawings offer us a sense of firm and resolute power.

In the hush between movements, guests are invited to write down a tree memory of their own and hang it among the others. Wil has collected hundreds of heartfelt stories: notes about childhood favorites, places of mourning and meditation, and trees that grew alongside the people who loved them.

These steadfast companions protect us, nourish us, offer companionship, and record history. “Trees are not proverbial abstract things, but individual, living beings with personalities and stories to tell," Wil explains.

“If we can think about trees in a personal way,” he continues, “we see the need to increase our collective action to protect the climate, including air, soil, and water quality, to ensure the survival of trees.”

Is it a coincidence that the system of airways in our lungs resembles a tree's branches? We forget too easily that the natural world is a part of us, just like we are a part of it. Wil is helping us to remember ourselves—through the branches that let us touch the sky.

By Alexandra Smith

Drawing in the Mint Museum!

 

My climate Conversation Drawing 4 will be on display at the Mint Museum of Art in uptown Charlotte this Wednesday night, April 23rd at 6 PM. I consider this a great honor! Join me for the opening reception on the 5^th floor gallery!

As the Climate Warms, the trees are talking. One Charlotte artist is listening

As the Climate Warms, the trees are talking. One Charlotte artist is listening 

WFAE | By Zachary Turner 

 Published March 12, 2025 at 2:53 PM EDT

Zachary Turner / WFAE

Charlotte artist Wil Bosbyshell stands in front of the tulip poplar he drew.

Wil Bosbyshell leaned against a cherry tree in his backyard. One hand held a sheet of paper in place while the other shaded. He is a professional artist who has been working in Charlotte for 30 years, capturing the images he sees on his hikes.

But, more recently, he’s gotten really into trees.

“So, I’m just rubbing the pencil sideways with a long point,” Bosbyshell said. The pencil scratched along the paper. “And I’m just gradually trying to rub it on the paper without poking the tree through the paper … which happens quite easily.”

 

Zachary Turner / WFAE



This drawing of a tree by Charlotte artist Wil Bosbyshell stands six feet tall.

A ghostly image appeared, almost like an ultrasound. He started drawing trees because of their complexity; the impressions often revealed features Bosbyshell didn’t see before. In one drawing, cross-hatched cuts marked the tree. They looked like scratches, and Bosbyshell assumed they were until an entomologist saw his drawing.

“He said this is bugs eating — a certain type of beetle eating into the bark where there’s a little break,” he said.

The process always begins outside with the rhythmic rubbing, then he takes the shading inside to refine. It might take a long afternoon or several months to complete. Inside his home, he showed off a drawing that stood taller than the average person.

“This one was … quite a challenge to rub on the tree because trees have branches that come out this way, and I didn’t want to poke a hole in the paper,” Bosbyshell said.



Drawing for the climate

Bark beetles and cattywampus limbs aren’t the only features Bosbyshell noticed during his drawing. Trees also record their interactions with humans. He pointed to a piece that his wife, Maura, had turned into a pillow.

“So, the tree is alive, and then, all of a sudden, it starts to die, and the bark gets eaten off by that acid rain up in the Smokey Mountains,” Bosbyshell said.

The trunk retained its bark, but the limbs had started to shed and die off. He said he wanted his trees to draw attention to climate change, and while climate change may not cause acid rain, they are related. Refining oil and burning fossil fuels like coal or natural gas releases sulfur dioxide and nitrogen oxides. Acid rain occurs when those gases mix with water in the

atmosphere.

 

 Zachary Turner / WFAE


Trees are also part of the solution. These silent sentinels absorb carbon dioxide and trap it. When they fall and decompose, that carbon returns to the earth, but the system only works when those trees are allowed to decompose naturally.

Millions of trees fell in western North Carolina during Helene, making catastrophic wildfires more likely. The cycle feeds into itself: Bad floods topple trees that burn before they can decompose. That releases more carbon dioxide into the atmosphere, leading to worse floods that topple more trees.

“I really am moved by trying to get people to take the climate a little bit more seriously,” Bosbyshell said. “I was hoping this would be the way to sneak climate into people’s lives because everyone likes trees.”

He started asking people to write down their favorite tree memory at his installations. He received responses like “cloud watching with my dad under a tree” or the time someone proposed under a tree. The cloud-watching memory was one of his favorites.

Bosbyshell will display his work as part of Charlotte Earth Day. The event will feature performances, presentations and art installations for all ages. Charlotte Earth Day founder Hardin Minor said this year's theme is Creative Earth.

“Look at the seasons. Look at spring blooming now,” Minor said. “Nature is the ultimate artist.”

The exhibits will include Bosbyshell’s Memory Tree project. Minor recalled sharing his tree memory — the time his brother Peter climbed a tree in his backyard when they were growing up. His father was just gone to call the fire department to get Peter down when he fell from the tree and “landed on this patch of moss, and he bounced!”

“All of a sudden, I’m writing this information on this card, and I’m weeping and remembering that Peter (his brother) survived,” Minor said.

For Bosbyshell, that emotional reaction is kind of the point.

“It’s just so personal,” Bosbyshell said. “We all have trees in our yard, in our neighborhood, by our school.”

Link: WFAE