THE AUDIO ART TOUR
We art offering an Audio Tour of some of the Art in the Garden.
Here is a preview of the art. Click on one of the 24 stops on the tour, or purchase a catalog to have a written version.
The Art Tour, the audio equipment, and the Art Catalog are made possible by our wonderful sponsor, The Davis Foundation.
Here is a preview of the art. Click on one of the 24 stops on the tour, or purchase a catalog to have a written version.
The Art Tour, the audio equipment, and the Art Catalog are made possible by our wonderful sponsor, The Davis Foundation.
Map of the Art Stops
The Acrobats
Three figures form the arch that you walk through to start your journey on the Forest Bathing Path.
This is a threshold or portal. Portals mark the transition from one state of being to another, from the laundry list of to-dos crowding your mind to a place of curiosity and calm. They are an invitation. You will encounter many of these thresholds in your journey through the garden, signaling a change from one garden experience to another.
To make the Acrobats, I began with a ten-inch-high model and asked a local fabricator to enlarge it ten times. Bob and I brought the three pieces home in two trucks and bolted them together, with me standing in the raised bucket of our tractor.
Not two weeks later, a phoebe built a nest in the breast of the top figure. I guess you could call that a christening of sorts.
This is a threshold or portal. Portals mark the transition from one state of being to another, from the laundry list of to-dos crowding your mind to a place of curiosity and calm. They are an invitation. You will encounter many of these thresholds in your journey through the garden, signaling a change from one garden experience to another.
To make the Acrobats, I began with a ten-inch-high model and asked a local fabricator to enlarge it ten times. Bob and I brought the three pieces home in two trucks and bolted them together, with me standing in the raised bucket of our tractor.
Not two weeks later, a phoebe built a nest in the breast of the top figure. I guess you could call that a christening of sorts.
Log Jam
The idea for Log Jam popped into my head when I saw some hollow trees that were felled to create the parking lot. I cut them into slices and stacked them up between two trees and they made an instant statement. Bob came up with the name as he often does.
A gesture like this is a simple and inexpensive way to animate a landscape. This one will eventually decay, rot away, and be added to the compost pile. The Japanese would call this “wabi-sabi,” the art of finding beauty in impermanence and imperfection. You will find other examples of this along your journey through the garden.
During our Fairy and Hobbit House Festival in October you might find it inhabited by little creatures making their home in this honeycomb condo.
A gesture like this is a simple and inexpensive way to animate a landscape. This one will eventually decay, rot away, and be added to the compost pile. The Japanese would call this “wabi-sabi,” the art of finding beauty in impermanence and imperfection. You will find other examples of this along your journey through the garden.
During our Fairy and Hobbit House Festival in October you might find it inhabited by little creatures making their home in this honeycomb condo.
Gothic Arbor
It might not have occurred to you, but plants can be sculpture too, like topiary or a hedge maze. You will see other examples of plants treated sculpturally in the garden. It is another feature that makes this garden unique.
This living sculpture is made of a collection of narrow-growing oak trees [the infected beech trees were replaced by the oaks in 2025] trained on iron supports in the form of a Gothic arch. The shape and size of the arbor makes one feel small compared to the natural kingdom.
The arbor also serves another important design function: it visually connects the open clearing of the Nexus with the Wildlife Pond.
Look across the pond. On the other side you will see three sculptures. The placement of the pieces amplifies their significance. They draw you forward and inform you that there is more to come. As you pass by them later on your journey, be sure to look back to see the curved bench centered under the Gothic Arbor.
This living sculpture is made of a collection of narrow-growing oak trees [the infected beech trees were replaced by the oaks in 2025] trained on iron supports in the form of a Gothic arch. The shape and size of the arbor makes one feel small compared to the natural kingdom.
The arbor also serves another important design function: it visually connects the open clearing of the Nexus with the Wildlife Pond.
Look across the pond. On the other side you will see three sculptures. The placement of the pieces amplifies their significance. They draw you forward and inform you that there is more to come. As you pass by them later on your journey, be sure to look back to see the curved bench centered under the Gothic Arbor.
Razor's Edge
When I picked Razor’s Edge up from my fabricator, I saw it was beautiful, but also dangerous. I realized we would have to site it carefully, so I decided to suspend it. Why not use the trees as a gallery? After all, when you are married to a mechanical genius, anything is possible.
Saws are a favorite of mine. I love the repetitions of the teeth and their association with trees and farming. I learned from a recent visitor that the word “sierra,” a range of jagged mountains, and the word “serration” have the same etymological root, which creates an even deeper association with nature.
The long vertical pieces are parts of a cutter bar from a sickle bar mower and I use them frequently in my work.
Saws are a favorite of mine. I love the repetitions of the teeth and their association with trees and farming. I learned from a recent visitor that the word “sierra,” a range of jagged mountains, and the word “serration” have the same etymological root, which creates an even deeper association with nature.
The long vertical pieces are parts of a cutter bar from a sickle bar mower and I use them frequently in my work.
Termi
Take a seat on the thrones.
You are on the Termi looking across the pond to the Allée and Torii, with the view terminating in the Golden Ring on the far side of the property.
Behind you is a wall of wool left over from a Boston Flower Show exhibit. The cast iron columns come from a mill in Manchester and the quirky bricks at your feet are the result of a furnace malfunction at Goodrich Brick decades ago. I picked up the teak chairs from an Asian import company. They are made from recycled wooden carts and wood that was reportedly floating down the Mekong River.
I think of this whole ensemble as a sculpture: a kind of stage set with three walls, a floor, and some thrones sitting on a promontory all designed to channel your royal self. Go ahead and puff up your chest.
Below: The Termi in fall surrounded by seven-sons trees with their raspberry-colored flower parts. A 900-foot, north-south axis terminates here, hence its name. (Photo by Pam Penick)
You are on the Termi looking across the pond to the Allée and Torii, with the view terminating in the Golden Ring on the far side of the property.
Behind you is a wall of wool left over from a Boston Flower Show exhibit. The cast iron columns come from a mill in Manchester and the quirky bricks at your feet are the result of a furnace malfunction at Goodrich Brick decades ago. I picked up the teak chairs from an Asian import company. They are made from recycled wooden carts and wood that was reportedly floating down the Mekong River.
I think of this whole ensemble as a sculpture: a kind of stage set with three walls, a floor, and some thrones sitting on a promontory all designed to channel your royal self. Go ahead and puff up your chest.
Below: The Termi in fall surrounded by seven-sons trees with their raspberry-colored flower parts. A 900-foot, north-south axis terminates here, hence its name. (Photo by Pam Penick)
Oculi
Oculi first came into view when you walked through the Gothic Arbor across the pond. The cutter bars are similar to the one featured in Razor’s Edge. The round serrated pieces holding the orbs are sprockets from bulldozers. I treasure these pieces whenever I can lay my hands on them. I like this elongated triangle form, somewhat humanoid, because it works well as a focal point, casts interesting shadows, and creates height without feeling ponderous.
Grouping three oculi together like this, each of which could stand alone, adds another layer of meaning. They are in relationship with each other; they are having a conversation. Compare this feeling to other stand-alone oculus pieces.
And don’t forget to look back through the Gothic Arbor.
Grouping three oculi together like this, each of which could stand alone, adds another layer of meaning. They are in relationship with each other; they are having a conversation. Compare this feeling to other stand-alone oculus pieces.
And don’t forget to look back through the Gothic Arbor.
The Family From Hell
Sometimes a collection of related pieces of metal suggest a sculpture. This is the case with the Spiral you will see later on in your journey.
In this piece, doors from wood stoves play the unifying role. Broken down wood stoves used to be a reliable find in the metal junk yards I frequented and the doors appear in several sculptures. I like them because they are often ornamented and hinged, and doors always spark curiosity.
The shoe stretchers Mom (center) is wearing in this installation were found objects I was saving for a special purpose.
Mom was the first figure I made and she turned out looking fierce and tough. That set the stage for rest of the family. Her husband turned out looking bewildered as I created him, and their child had an aura of ghoulishness. I could not resist making use of the two hinged doors in this piece. Feel free to open them up if they are closed.
The dog, who has a faucet cover for a face is named Birkenstock because I used the floppy part of a pair of leather sandals for his ears.
Just like the Metal Folk you will see as you head further into the garden, these pieces suggest a narrative between the various components of the installation.
In this piece, doors from wood stoves play the unifying role. Broken down wood stoves used to be a reliable find in the metal junk yards I frequented and the doors appear in several sculptures. I like them because they are often ornamented and hinged, and doors always spark curiosity.
The shoe stretchers Mom (center) is wearing in this installation were found objects I was saving for a special purpose.
Mom was the first figure I made and she turned out looking fierce and tough. That set the stage for rest of the family. Her husband turned out looking bewildered as I created him, and their child had an aura of ghoulishness. I could not resist making use of the two hinged doors in this piece. Feel free to open them up if they are closed.
The dog, who has a faucet cover for a face is named Birkenstock because I used the floppy part of a pair of leather sandals for his ears.
Just like the Metal Folk you will see as you head further into the garden, these pieces suggest a narrative between the various components of the installation.
Quetzalcoatl
Look up to see this piece. Remember Razor’s Edge? This is another example of using the tree canopy as a gallery. It is named Quetzalcoatl after the Aztec god who mythically played a role in the creation of mankind. Suspending pieces creates a sense that something is happening here but you are not sure what it is.
Once again, I have used cutter bar blades here, with copper heating coils for its tail. It is often visitors who can identify the components of these sculptures because they have actually used the tools from which they originated.
This area of the property, with its distinctive atmosphere, was the original impetus for my site-specific pieces. And, in this case, the creepier the better. Check out the caged net of horse bones. There are many other creatures inhabiting the Dark Woods. The sculpture on the south end is a piece of driftwood I found on Whidbey Island in Washington. Bob added the red eye. Opposite it is the Red-Eyed Bug inspired by the bulbous taillights of a motor vehicle.
Once again, I have used cutter bar blades here, with copper heating coils for its tail. It is often visitors who can identify the components of these sculptures because they have actually used the tools from which they originated.
This area of the property, with its distinctive atmosphere, was the original impetus for my site-specific pieces. And, in this case, the creepier the better. Check out the caged net of horse bones. There are many other creatures inhabiting the Dark Woods. The sculpture on the south end is a piece of driftwood I found on Whidbey Island in Washington. Bob added the red eye. Opposite it is the Red-Eyed Bug inspired by the bulbous taillights of a motor vehicle.
Inukshuk
Stones are as old as time, but stones that have been shaped and used to grind food have a special meaning. This grinding wheel has an unusual carved pattern which has stymied visitors to the garden as they try to understand its intent. Lichens add magic to everything they grow on and here they certainly add to the power of this piece as they morph over time.
This antique grinding wheel was a gift that delighted me, and I honor its gravitas by placing it vertically.
When the piece was finished, a colleague said it reminded him of the piled stone figures of the Inuit people in Alaska. And so it does: hence its name, Inukshuk, meaning “in the likeness of humans.”
Its placement is strategic. Turn around and look back into the garden. You see the Torii, a structure you will learn about shortly, and if you look beyond it, your eye travels to the pergola on the Landing by the barn.
The Inukshuk anchors this 800-foot, east-west axis and is substantial enough to be easily seen from the Landing. Be sure to look back at it when you are there later in the tour.
This antique grinding wheel was a gift that delighted me, and I honor its gravitas by placing it vertically.
When the piece was finished, a colleague said it reminded him of the piled stone figures of the Inuit people in Alaska. And so it does: hence its name, Inukshuk, meaning “in the likeness of humans.”
Its placement is strategic. Turn around and look back into the garden. You see the Torii, a structure you will learn about shortly, and if you look beyond it, your eye travels to the pergola on the Landing by the barn.
The Inukshuk anchors this 800-foot, east-west axis and is substantial enough to be easily seen from the Landing. Be sure to look back at it when you are there later in the tour.
Belvedere
The Belvedere is another example of how a feature in the landscape can be experienced as a work of art.
Like the Termi, the Belvedere is a kind of stage set with walls and a floor, overlooking a beautiful field conserved by our neighbor.
Landscape designer Julie Messervy calls this design element an “archetypal harbor,” a place where you feel sheltered and secure and can look out on the scene in front of you while feeling relaxed and at ease. These are my favorite kinds of spaces in the landscape. No mountain tops for me.
A talented excavator operator and I built the wall from the stones left over from blasting bedrock when we made the parking lot.
Like the Termi, the Belvedere is a kind of stage set with walls and a floor, overlooking a beautiful field conserved by our neighbor.
Landscape designer Julie Messervy calls this design element an “archetypal harbor,” a place where you feel sheltered and secure and can look out on the scene in front of you while feeling relaxed and at ease. These are my favorite kinds of spaces in the landscape. No mountain tops for me.
A talented excavator operator and I built the wall from the stones left over from blasting bedrock when we made the parking lot.
Spiral
The spiral form recurs throughout history. It is elemental. So are circles. With its spinning roof ventilators, the spiral pattern of the culvert uprights, and the repeated spiral on the ground, this piece feels musical especially when the wind blows.
Serendipity and spontaneity are key aspects of my creative process. I like a piece to build on itself organically and Spiral is a good example of this. When I saw the largest roof ventilator at a flea market, it completed a set. I had been randomly collecting them for years because I like how they spin so reliably.
The variously sized ventilators led the way for the rest of the piece. The cobbled spiral on the ground followed, then the hanging ring with the cobbled circle under it.
Serendipity and spontaneity are key aspects of my creative process. I like a piece to build on itself organically and Spiral is a good example of this. When I saw the largest roof ventilator at a flea market, it completed a set. I had been randomly collecting them for years because I like how they spin so reliably.
The variously sized ventilators led the way for the rest of the piece. The cobbled spiral on the ground followed, then the hanging ring with the cobbled circle under it.
Solare
In Solare, you will be able to recognize elements that you have seen before: the straight cutter bar blades, the circular saw blade, the stone orbs. This piece is a nod to the solar system.
It can be seen from the Termi and complements the theme of movement in this area.
Since we have participated as vendors in shows over the years, I made many pieces in sections for easier transport; this is one that comes apart as does the Acrobats.
The hanging Golden Ring was brought to me by a neighbor thinking it might appeal to me. He guessed right. It lay in the woods for years until this perfect place suggested itself. Bob rigged up the scaffolding and pulley system to eventually cable it between the two trees.
As you stand and turn around under the Golden Ring, you will see down the 900-foot, north-south axis through the Allée and the Torii structure to the Termi with its wool wall where you stood a while ago.
It can be seen from the Termi and complements the theme of movement in this area.
Since we have participated as vendors in shows over the years, I made many pieces in sections for easier transport; this is one that comes apart as does the Acrobats.
The hanging Golden Ring was brought to me by a neighbor thinking it might appeal to me. He guessed right. It lay in the woods for years until this perfect place suggested itself. Bob rigged up the scaffolding and pulley system to eventually cable it between the two trees.
As you stand and turn around under the Golden Ring, you will see down the 900-foot, north-south axis through the Allée and the Torii structure to the Termi with its wool wall where you stood a while ago.
Torii
The Torii, named after the entrance gates of Shinto Shrines in Japan, is a piece of sculpture. It gives the eye an object on which to rest in what would otherwise be a rapid glance across the pond to the Termi. It holds a cosmic position in the garden of being the cross point of two axes: north/south from the Termi to Solare and west/east from Inukshuk to the Landing. Its stature comes from its size, complementing the trees, and its elegance comes from the curve in the top beams and its proportions. (Photo by Jonathan Hornbeck)
Entwined
We inherited this piece from Bob’s father. It was fabricated by Lee Sauder, a talented blacksmith working in Lexington, Virginia. Its form is so fittingly vegetal that it would feel at home in any garden. I powder coated it cobalt blue, which really makes it sing. The large glass orb is a fishing float.
I enjoy colorful sculpture in the garden although I don’t use it a lot since most of the material I use is better suited to a patina of rust.
Art in the garden remains eye catching all year long. It looks different when covered with snow or ice or fog, and a bright color can help sustain you though the winter gloom, much like the sight of a bright red cardinal does.
I enjoy colorful sculpture in the garden although I don’t use it a lot since most of the material I use is better suited to a patina of rust.
Art in the garden remains eye catching all year long. It looks different when covered with snow or ice or fog, and a bright color can help sustain you though the winter gloom, much like the sight of a bright red cardinal does.
Cairns
Cairns have been built since recorded history and have both spiritual and practical uses. Cairns have marked burial mounds and sometimes been an expression of gratitude. They are also used as sturdy markers on a trail. The Inukshuk is also a kind of cairn.
These cairns were inspired by hikes in the White Mountains where the trail above the tree line can be deeply fogged in and one must navigate from one cairn to another.
We made these cairns early in the garden’s history and were so pleased with ourselves. They are an inexpensive and eye-catching way to enrich the experience of a garden. The kids even used them as doll houses of sorts with their pebble inhabitants living on different floors.
These cairns were inspired by hikes in the White Mountains where the trail above the tree line can be deeply fogged in and one must navigate from one cairn to another.
We made these cairns early in the garden’s history and were so pleased with ourselves. They are an inexpensive and eye-catching way to enrich the experience of a garden. The kids even used them as doll houses of sorts with their pebble inhabitants living on different floors.
Four Seasons Totem
I carved the Four Seasons Totem in our living room one winter. It was so bloody messy I dubbed it “Hack and Vac.”
It is made from mahogany, which is soft and beautifully easy to carve. In fact, the wood is so workable that my first cut left a big gouge since I had just finished a piece in cherry, which is much denser.
Here, I was inspired by the number four: four points on a compass and on a cross, four corners of a square, four elements, four seasons. I depicted the latter two on this piece–the four seasons and the four elements. I included our family mandala of five figures holding hands on the bottom.
I am drawn to tall and skinny forms like this one because they are so easy to use in a garden and look great anchored by a low skirt of vegetation.
This was not my first wooden totem. I made one out of poplar which sadly rotted away after ten years. It included our family as well, but they were represented as clay figures.
It is made from mahogany, which is soft and beautifully easy to carve. In fact, the wood is so workable that my first cut left a big gouge since I had just finished a piece in cherry, which is much denser.
Here, I was inspired by the number four: four points on a compass and on a cross, four corners of a square, four elements, four seasons. I depicted the latter two on this piece–the four seasons and the four elements. I included our family mandala of five figures holding hands on the bottom.
I am drawn to tall and skinny forms like this one because they are so easy to use in a garden and look great anchored by a low skirt of vegetation.
This was not my first wooden totem. I made one out of poplar which sadly rotted away after ten years. It included our family as well, but they were represented as clay figures.
Metal Folk
The Metal Folk is another ensemble embodying both meanings of the word: a performance, and a group meant to be viewed as a whole, like the Spiral, rather than individually.
I made the pieces during the height of our garden art business, and despite our success, I was making them faster than I was selling them. In addition, I was having a hard time refraining from making more. I would see faces and bodies in my pile of “littles” and just had to see how they might go together. Their collective selves started to crowd me out and boss me around. They needed to have a place of their own.
As luck would have it, I had just ripped out a border in front of the arborvitaes and this turned out to be the perfect place. I gave each its own pedestal and thereby preempted adding any more. I won.
I think they like it here. They can puff themselves out as much as they want and are far enough apart to preclude fighting. They have been around so long I can almost hear them talking. Now that would make an interesting play.
I made the pieces during the height of our garden art business, and despite our success, I was making them faster than I was selling them. In addition, I was having a hard time refraining from making more. I would see faces and bodies in my pile of “littles” and just had to see how they might go together. Their collective selves started to crowd me out and boss me around. They needed to have a place of their own.
As luck would have it, I had just ripped out a border in front of the arborvitaes and this turned out to be the perfect place. I gave each its own pedestal and thereby preempted adding any more. I won.
I think they like it here. They can puff themselves out as much as they want and are far enough apart to preclude fighting. They have been around so long I can almost hear them talking. Now that would make an interesting play.
Chi Wara Antelope Heads
This pair of sculptures capitalize on the ability of art to mark a transition between spaces. The Acrobats were described as a portal, but these animal figures are more related to the lions that flank the thresholds of tombs and libraries. Here they mark the entrance to the Rock Garden.
These pieces represent one of the few times I felt moved to make a piece of art based directly on another work of art. In this case it was from a small photo I saw in the newspaper covering an African Art exhibit. I still have the photo.
The heads are made from parts of a plow, the manes from railroad spikes, and the horns from an antique hand-held scale.
Much to my surprise, a visitor saw them and identified them as Chi Waras.
He had worked in the Peace Corps among the Bamana people in Burkina Faso and told me they are ceremonial antelope headdresses worn by farmers to honor the spirit of fertility. The practice celebrates the antelope pawing the ground, making a hole, depositing some manure along with undigested seeds, and thus continuing the circle of life.
These pieces represent one of the few times I felt moved to make a piece of art based directly on another work of art. In this case it was from a small photo I saw in the newspaper covering an African Art exhibit. I still have the photo.
The heads are made from parts of a plow, the manes from railroad spikes, and the horns from an antique hand-held scale.
Much to my surprise, a visitor saw them and identified them as Chi Waras.
He had worked in the Peace Corps among the Bamana people in Burkina Faso and told me they are ceremonial antelope headdresses worn by farmers to honor the spirit of fertility. The practice celebrates the antelope pawing the ground, making a hole, depositing some manure along with undigested seeds, and thus continuing the circle of life.
Synopeaks
Syncopeaks is the large work that sits in the middle of GrassAcre. It anchors the area as you sit under the CopTop and look at the swathes of grasses in front of you.
This piece was inspired by the gift of two air compressor tanks. My fabricator sliced the tanks into six strips and we bolted them together in a wave pattern, then I drew a design on them, which we cut out with a plasma cutter. We repeated this process until we were left with almost no scrap and a series of waves of decreasing size.
The piece evokes the layers of mountains on the horizon, hence its name, but I think I might be the only one who sees this. What do you see?
This piece was inspired by the gift of two air compressor tanks. My fabricator sliced the tanks into six strips and we bolted them together in a wave pattern, then I drew a design on them, which we cut out with a plasma cutter. We repeated this process until we were left with almost no scrap and a series of waves of decreasing size.
The piece evokes the layers of mountains on the horizon, hence its name, but I think I might be the only one who sees this. What do you see?
GrassAcre
I designed GrassAcre as an abstract painting with ornamental grasses. Three grasses in three colors would paint the swaths, blue, green and red. The project required several thousand grass plugs to begin with and much subsequent maintenance but in fall it is spectacular. Well worth it, we all agree.
A subliminal inspiration for this piece might be my deep admiration for the work of the Brazilian artist and landscape architect Roberto Burle Marx. He is responsible for the Copacabana promenade in Rio de Janeiro and many public gardens. A guy who thinks big and bold.
A wonderful surprise emerged as these plants came into their own. As fall approaches, they change colors. The most stunning transformation is the little bluestem flanking the Allée, which changes from blue grey to violet to cinnamon. You can hardly believe your eyes. The middle section, made of Hakone grass, turns beige and picks up the slightest zephyr. The switchgrass on the right is tinged with burgundy in the fall.
Both the bluestem and the switchgrass are common roadside plants that some might think of as weeds. I hope you will not think of them in this manner after seeing them as the stars of this show.
A subliminal inspiration for this piece might be my deep admiration for the work of the Brazilian artist and landscape architect Roberto Burle Marx. He is responsible for the Copacabana promenade in Rio de Janeiro and many public gardens. A guy who thinks big and bold.
A wonderful surprise emerged as these plants came into their own. As fall approaches, they change colors. The most stunning transformation is the little bluestem flanking the Allée, which changes from blue grey to violet to cinnamon. You can hardly believe your eyes. The middle section, made of Hakone grass, turns beige and picks up the slightest zephyr. The switchgrass on the right is tinged with burgundy in the fall.
Both the bluestem and the switchgrass are common roadside plants that some might think of as weeds. I hope you will not think of them in this manner after seeing them as the stars of this show.
ConeTown Arbor
This arbor is another portal, like the Acrobats that began this tour. This one announces the passage between ConeTown, a room-like collection of conifers of different colors and shapes, and Shrubaria, a cathedral-like woodland grove. Conifers are cone-bearing plants, hence the name, ConeTown.
I made the cones from pieces that looked remarkably like pinecone scales that I had collected years earlier from a metal junk yard. They just needed some artful shaping. The needles are made from old coat hangers.
The uprights are the same type of street culvert you saw at the Spiral, but powder-coated this time. I was aiming for a dude ranch look with the cones acting like a 3D cattle brand.
I made the cones from pieces that looked remarkably like pinecone scales that I had collected years earlier from a metal junk yard. They just needed some artful shaping. The needles are made from old coat hangers.
The uprights are the same type of street culvert you saw at the Spiral, but powder-coated this time. I was aiming for a dude ranch look with the cones acting like a 3D cattle brand.
Great Balls of Fire
This Calder-like mobile was created by my father-in-law and hung low to the ground on a branch of a Sycamore tree on their family property.
We were thrilled to inherit it and installed it near our house until, decades later, one of the supporting hickories blew over. This presented an opportunity both to repaint it (a powder-coated color in this case), and to find a more suitable home where it had space to breathe.
It is now perfectly sited in Shrubaria, where it hangs freely and inspires visitors to look up. Its movement and color animates this cathedral-like area with the tall oaks arching overhead.
We were thrilled to inherit it and installed it near our house until, decades later, one of the supporting hickories blew over. This presented an opportunity both to repaint it (a powder-coated color in this case), and to find a more suitable home where it had space to breathe.
It is now perfectly sited in Shrubaria, where it hangs freely and inspires visitors to look up. Its movement and color animates this cathedral-like area with the tall oaks arching overhead.
Spirit House
When we were traveling in Southeast Asia, I was struck by the spirit houses that occurred everywhere. Some were small but others were the size of a large dog house and often sat on a pedestal.
Their purpose is to honor the spirits who live on the land where the dwelling or business resides.
The owners tend to these houses fervently, refreshing them every day with offerings that include incense, marigold flowers, drinks, money, cigarettes, and fruit.
I was so struck with the power of devotion these structures represent that I knew I would make my own when we returned. You will find several around the property, each somewhat different.
Their purpose is to honor the spirits who live on the land where the dwelling or business resides.
The owners tend to these houses fervently, refreshing them every day with offerings that include incense, marigold flowers, drinks, money, cigarettes, and fruit.
I was so struck with the power of devotion these structures represent that I knew I would make my own when we returned. You will find several around the property, each somewhat different.
Bug Alley
When I saw a review for a beautiful book of illustrations of beetles and other insects by Bernard Durin, I sprang for it. Somehow the stunning illustrations of these most intriguing insects inspired me to venture into the world of bugs.
Small parts like calipers, drill bits, rasps and irons that I had amassed over the years made perfect insect parts. It was a thrill to find a ideal grasshopper head in the triangular shape of an old metal iron and the head of a praying mantis in an upturned kid’s bicycle seat. The possibilities are endless and I am not done increasing their population yet.
Small parts like calipers, drill bits, rasps and irons that I had amassed over the years made perfect insect parts. It was a thrill to find a ideal grasshopper head in the triangular shape of an old metal iron and the head of a praying mantis in an upturned kid’s bicycle seat. The possibilities are endless and I am not done increasing their population yet.