Every concept has to read digital with no wordmark attached. A tree logo on a web company drifts into tree-service territory, and half our lead sheet is arborists. Douglas fir, not generic pine. No gradients, swooshes, globes, or cursor arrows.
#1b6b4a brand#2b8f63 brand-bright#0b2419 brand-deep#8ed5b1 mint#b08d57 gold#141c19 ink#f7f9f8 paperPalette pulled from the live site's :root. Type on site: Source Serif 4 for headings, Inter for UI. Lockups below use the site's own heading stack.
A fir built from signal bars. Four rounded bars stack into a canopy; the trunk is the fifth bar turned upright. Cold read is phone signal / loading bars first, tree second. That order is the whole point.
Extends: yes, and it's the strongest system here. Drop the trunk and shift the bars off-center and the same five-bar language builds a peak for Colorado, a long horizon for Montana. One grammar, fifty states.
A fir living inside a browser window. Chrome bar with one dot and an address pill, tree knocked out of the viewport below. It says "your trade, on a website" without a cursor or a globe.
Extends: yes. The window is the constant; the knockout swaps per state: peak for Colorado, butte for Montana. The frame carries the "web" read so the state motif can be literal.
Three chevrons and a stub of trunk. Reads as rank-going-up / expand-less stacked into a fir silhouette. The pitch is literally "move up the search results," and this is that drawn.
Extends: as-is. It is state-agnostic, which is also the confession. There is nothing Oregon in it beyond the color. In Colorado the chevrons even read as mountains for free. Included as the control: the system with zero regional content.
A fir drawn on a favicon grid, with four pixels breaking loose. The pixelation is the digital tell: this tree could only exist on a screen. Deliberately coarse at 400 px, natively crisp at 16.
Extends: yes. The grid draws any state motif: a staircase peak for Colorado shown here, a bison or butte for Montana. The loose-pixel gesture carries over unchanged.
A tree that is literally a tree: the data structure. Six nodes and edges in fir topology, rooted into a square server block. The best pun in the set: their tree, our tree, same word.
Extends: as-is, because it never mentions Oregon. Same mark in every state; only the wordmark changes. Whether that's a system or an evasion depends on how much the state name needs to live in the mark.
A fir typed, not drawn. Detached slash strokes droop off a vertical bar the way Douglas fir branches actually droop; the whole tree is punctuation. Reads as code comment art.
Extends: partially. Slash strokes can sketch a peak, but the mountain version loses the typed-character logic that makes the fir version smart. The system is really an Oregon idea wearing a system costume.
A solid seal with a pixel-staircase fir punched out. The disc says invoice stamp, shop door, wax seal: plainspoken trade credibility. The staircase edge says screen, which keeps it out of the parks department.
Extends: yes. The seal is the constant; the staircase knockout swaps per state. Because the cutout is built on the same pixel grid, every state's version is automatically in the same family.
A map pin with the fir knocked out of its head. The entire pitch, "great work deserves to be found," in one shape. Also the most off-the-shelf idea on this page, and it knows it.
Extends: trivially. Pin plus any state motif. That universality is exactly why a hundred local-SEO shops already use some version of it.
One fir, half solid, half scanlines. Left side is the physical trade; right side is the same business rendered as a screen. The split is the service: we take what you already are and put it online.
Extends: yes. The half-solid, half-scanline treatment applies to any silhouette; peak shown for Colorado. The treatment is the brand; the silhouette is the state.
An actual Douglas fir, drooping, jagged, characterful, knocked out of an app icon. The tree does zero digital work; the rounded-square container does all of it. The most beautiful tree here and the most dangerous.
Extends: conceptually yes, cheaply no. Each state gets its own tree: blue spruce for Colorado shown here, ponderosa for Montana. But every new state is a fresh silhouette commission, not a parameter change. A system of portraits, not a template.