When I was a grade school aged kid I remember sitting in an overly warmed garage with my grandfather, who was showing me how to hold a tool the right way in order to make feathers on the wings of a wooden eagle that he was carving. I remember being awed by the chance to make some of the feather marks. I always thought his eagles were the coolest. As I got older and the family dynamics began to sink in I was aware that Grampa was the only one in the family who was creative.

In grade school I remember one trip with my dad to a farm way out in the country. It was a supreme privilege to be ale to go along because they were cutting down a tree in a farmer's field for our fireplace in the city. I endured an entire cold morning standing in the field, trying to keep my feet warm just waiting until the tree was down and the logs were finally small enough for me to pick up and carry to the trailer, which was my only allowed contribution. (It took a few more years before I could convince my father to let me help him split wood with the long handled ax!)

In junior high I began going to Girl Scout camp and I remember I was always the one who volunteered to gather firewood and be the firebuilder. I would linger by the fire, poking the wood into flames. I whittled little figures but never took them home because they weren't very realistic.

As a young adult I tried to find housing that had a fireplace or wood stove. I would take my chain saw anywhere to cut up free wood and stack it in my back yard. Many friends began to refuse to help me move after I asked them to stack the firewood in the U-Haul along with my furniture. I was hooked on wood.

It took me well into adulthood to realize that my love and need for wood could come from a source other than fireplace logs. I began to carve wood and was flooded with fond memories of my grandfather, who taught me way more than a small tomboy could appreciate. I was once again hooked on wood, only this time I was creating chips and sawdust in my living room. I carved figures of animals, plates with patterns and bowls and loved the sensations of the various woods. The smell, the feel, the texture and the grain were all a tremendous surprise. It was a kind of relaxation and meditation for me. I was learning a great deal about myself through the wood and through the process of transforming the wood into objects.

Then I was introduced to the wood lathe and have been turning wood ever since. I try to let the wood become a bowl rather than force it into something else. Much of the current work is natural edged, meaning I leave the bark on when possible. The wood I use is always recycled fallen wood (something I refer to as "roadkill"). I ask neighbors who have lost a tree limb, or the tree trimmers if I can take some of the wood. I have never taken down a tree just to get the wood to make bowls. I am very busy after and ice storm. Get out the chain saw, see what is down, ask if I can help clean up after the storm and haul logs and blocks back to my house. I even have friends who help me with these hauling projects now because they too see the beauty in the finished turned bowl.

I still am working a day job in order to feed my wood habit but I hope to spend more and more time creating objects that tell the stories on their own. More and more the bowls/objects are wood along with other types of media. I think that the connection to other things is obvious and natural and that it only adds to the story of each piece. I hope you enjoy it.