It’s been a diary of memories and mental notes, of my grandmother’s gardens, and my mother’s gardens, the gardens of family friends
Read MoreSomething about the simplicity of the wood in its natural state. As if there was no stain, no varnish, no layers. Naked and beautiful.
Read MoreIt was the idea of texture that started it all
Read MoreThe shed was nearly buried by overgrown grasses, fallen branches, a rusting horse trailer, and a slapped-together, bent-wire dog run.
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