Out in front of my grandparent's cottage in Michigan stands a row of birch trees which border the dirt front road. They've almost become part of the window for me, framing the lake in the background. At one time, the trees grew in such a way to read I V V Y Y but over the years, they've slowly succombed to winter storms, drunken idiots and disease. At the moment, only the V and Y are left.
All the trees on the property are close to my heart, the white pines I'd climb to the top with no concern for getting pitch on my Lee's, the old and gigantic oak just outside the back door which survives still - the windiest of summer storms, the lovely sweeping willow my grandpa cut down without consulting the family, and of course, those slight, white-barked, sassy birches.
My dear uncle mailed me some of the brightest leaves from the trees one Autumn. I have them still in my curio cabinet along with a small coil of beloved birch bark.
Nostalgia is a great way to gain inspiration. My newest set of cards is born.
Available soon on Etsy.
The Mister, in a moment of brilliance and opportunity, snipped off a twig that had fallen from a beech tree in our back yard and came up with this ingenious device. I've been wanting a twig thumb drive forever and bless his heart he made one from scratch in the time from when I left and came home from the grocery store.
