Ethos of Making
Lilac (Syringa vulgaris)
The Sap Moon of March and a stretch of sunny days have conspired to launch a timely Spring, with more plants budding, blooming and leafing than I was able to count, beginning just after the Vernal Equinox. Here are several from on and around our property at about 700′ elevation, Latitude: 38.40222
Longitude: -122.82278: Continue reading “The Week in Bloom”
My favorite woods have three letter names- elm, oak, ash and fir. These names have been so repeated over the centuries, they have been polished smooth like river stones- extra syllables or letters are superfluous to their meaning. The trees themselves are thought to have magical origins, with deep roots in the collective consciousness, and their woods are ascribed human attributes. Whether used in the construction of aqueducts, ships, houses or furniture, each has played a vital role in shaping civilization throughout history, their unique characters as diverse and complementary as mythical gods or super heroes.
I spent part of yesterday inspecting logs of elm as I tool up for a production run of the Deep Deck, and found myself transfixed by the patterns of the sun-checked cross grain, wondering about the life of the tree and its ancestors.
Long known for its toughness, durability and resistance to splitting, elm has been used by the ancient Egyptians for wheels and carts, by the Romans to carry water and sewage, by the Danes for bows, and most famously by the English for Windsor seats and yolks for plowing. The painter John Constable depicted the elm in many of his landscapes. In more modern times, the trees have been valued for their generous shade and soaring shapeliness, lining neighborhood streets in small towns across America until the devastation of Dutch Elm Disease. In the New World, the tree became associated with the values of faith and courage, many prominent treaties and speeches having been made under its boughs. Some speculate this to be a reversal of the tree’s more ancient reputation as a place of foreboding, its massive branches prone to falling without apparent cause or warning. Merely standing under an elm was considered a brazen act, connoting trust in a higher power- the kind of blind trust and perseverance that settled the West, the tree following in the wake of American opportunism.
I keep my favorite Harris Tweed in the wood shop for chilly mornings, the pockets loaded with cedar shavings to ward off moths. My father bought this one new in the 1950’s and handed it down to me when I was in college. It has served as my armor ever since, whether I am building a house, teaching a class or hiking in a drizzle.
I’m putting finishing touches on a series of creatures for our Sunnyside Conservatory Menagerie project for final approval from the San Francisco Arts Commission before they are cast in bronze. The Conservatory building and grounds are currently under thorough renovation, and the creatures will be permanently installed over the summer as a complement to the original, exotic flora planted by the original owner, W.A. Merrals over 100 years ago.
Merrals was a Victorian-era mining engineer and inventor of international repute who invented a gas engine, a ventilation system for the New York City subway system, and the “Merrals Safety Aeroplane”, a bamboo-framed balloon powered by four gas engines of his own design.
The concept behind our menagerie is to complement the Victorian sense of wonder and discovery by suggesting plausible creatures that might inhabit the gardens surrounding the building. The result is a series of four creatures hybridized from actual fauna associated with the native origins of the plantings. I took the liberty of making references to our own pets, and have made the sculptures in the guise of a fictional, forensic anthropologist, over the past six weeks.
Photos: San Francisco History Center, San Francisco Public Library.
I’ve been collecting driftwood over the past couple of years and organizing it according to its general type (girth, length, curvature, species) and the frequency with which it can typically be found on stretches of beach near the mouth of the Russian River. I’d like to expand upon my collecting, make a kind of a taxonomy of driftwood, and explore some potential uses for the most common varieties. I’d like to organize a Driftwood Symposium on the beach after the next flood tide, while there is still plenty of driftwood along the shore following the most recent winter storms. Please send me a comment below or contact me directly if you’d like to participate and I’ll send details.
Unconstrained by the rigors of domestic comportment, outbuildings often reveal the true character of a homeplace. Their practical requirements associated with daily life reflected in the interior workings- storage, work, repair- are kept in balance with their more poetic exterior. A lovable barn is where you can find shade on a hot day, rinse your feet with the hose or shoot some hoops to unwind.
The week preceding the vernal equinox welcomed the return of web-spinning spiders around our property, harvesting a new crop of air born insects brought on by the warm weather and longer days. We’re also beginning to see evidence of an oddly early annual migration of Monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus), if yesterday’s swarms along route 101 were any indication. Meanwhile, here’s the local flower report:
Mustard (Brassica juncea) in the meadows is on the wane
while the Pride of Madeira (Echium candicans) is in its full glory along the coast.