Basswood
It's market season!
“Do you sell your work in any stores around town?”
“What is this made out of?”
“Do you make all of these yourself?”
I smile and answer a flurry of questions while trying to keep one of the displays from tipping over as a gust of wind blows by. It’s hot, and I realize I haven’t had any water all day. Summer as a jewelry maker is busy and full, overflowing with events, festivals, and farmer’s markets. I’m always grateful for every season, though, each one supplying its own form of nurturing.
If my business were a tree, the hectic summer months would be like the cambium layer - the layer that makes new cells during the growing season. Two layers beneath the bark, the cambium layer shrinks before winter into a quiet, reclusive time. The yin and yang of the seasons allows the tree to flourish when the timing is right. Even in drought years, the tree forms another ring, though thinner than in more prosperous years.
During winter -my quiet, creative, restorative season- I develop new ideas and designs, spending more time on questions like, “What if…?” rather than, “What’s next?” I return to some of my favorite materials and consider what makes them so. I even try to take a little more self care time to refill my cup with central Oregon’s wild beauty, bathtub soaks, and, of course, Netflix binges.
Working with basswood, a light and soft woodcarver’s wood, you can truly appreciate these outer layers: the cambium, xylem, and phloem are responsible for carrying water, sugars, and hormones up and down between the roots to the leaves. The workhouse of the tree, they create the rings and the new layer of bark. Just like building a business year after year, the tree becomes sturdier, continually expanding outward. Each ring of the B+B business represents a year of growth, even though there were plenty of seasons that felt harsher than others.
Back home in Pennsylvania, when my sister bought a house for her growing family, they had to cut down a black walnut tree in their front yard. I was heartbroken and apparently the previous owner was, too. I gathered a few pieces of it and made some jewelry to give to her. She said she cried when she received it. I wondered if, like me, she saw the rings of that black walnut and considered how we measure our lives.
Measure twice, cut once, I thought as I worked on those precious pieces. Sometimes our hands tremble when we try something new or have to leave the old behind. But taking care before we cut is just as important in life as it is in our relationship to the natural world.
Whether black walnut or basswood, the lessons trees provide are profound. From their life-giving oxygen to their generous shade on a sweltering day, trees share themselves with everything and everyone they come in contact with. Cherishing the richness of a tree’s life -and the way they gracefully navigate each season- only adds to our own.
What do you hope to cultivate during your “quiet season”?