Someday I'd love to live in a little house close to a wood. On Saturday mornings, after filling ourselves with buckwheat pancakes, Hadrian and our adorable quarter-Asian children and I will don our boots and baskets and head out for a walk in the forest. We'll carefully select evergreen boughs and berries in the winter, moss covered branches in the spring, wildflowers in the summer, and bright golden leaves in the fall. We'll lug it home and proceed to make it into art like my Grandmother does. We'll make beautiful garlands and dream catchers and pressed flowers. And then I'll blog about it.
But for now, our home is the big city and our "wood" is the lake shore. And more often than not, our "wood" is the sidewalks and the planters that building companies keep up because it's too darn freezing to go anywhere near the lake. The photo above shows a little corner of our home decorated with a piece of drift wood from Iceland and a geode from Dave's Rock Shop.
Earlier this week I stopped to pick up this branch on my way to work. It reminded me of a wishbone and (as Hadrian informed me) the Chinese character for "human", and so I tucked it into my bag and felt really cool about it. It's now hanging over our bed, in full hipster form.