maine

took a quick trip up to maine this weekend. I was delivering the conference table that I have been working on, the long-leaf pine one. Portfolio shots will be on the website soon, but here is one that I took while I was working on the dry fit.

I am very pleased with how it came out. Sometimes, after I finish a piece, I step back and look at it, and think, "well, yes, that will be fine." This was one of those pieces. You can't hit a home run every time, but when you do get one, it just feels good.

So on Friday I loaded it into a rentaed minivan and drove up to Deer Isle, which let me tell you is pretty far from anywhere, and that is no lie. Out on the coast of Maine, and just gorgeous. By the time I got up there, it was late afternoon, and the autumn sunlight was low and amber and cutting through the trees. Wherver it hit one that was gold or orange or red it looked like a forest fire, the color just exploding off of the leaves and almost making a sound. I see why people drive around to look at the autumn leaves, though that always seemed odd to me as a pastime. I understand it now.

There were many trees that had already lost most of their leaves. They lay on the emerald grass in a perfect circle around the base of the trunk which called to mind (I forget whose image this is. C S Lewis, maybe) slender pale women who have stepped out of their beautiful multi-colored evening dresses to prepare for the bath of winter. Made me think about trees, and how much I like them, and how much I want them to stay right where they are. Really affirmed for me the need to cut down as few as possible.

The dining hall at Haystack Mountain School of Craft, which is where I was taking the table, has a south-facing window that looks out over the bay. The building is about 200 feet up the side of a very steep hill, and the effect is one of hanging in the air, just at that moment of rest in a jump before you start hurtling back down. Looking out into the bay, there are a handful of small rocky islands with trees on them, evergreens, mostly, that look to me like a bunch of punk rock kids standing in a pool with only the tops of their heads sticking out of the water. I want to tell them to go on and get out, because the water is not going to get any warmer, but with their ears under water, they can't hear me.

So I stood and looked out at the bay as the last rays of sun set the sky on fire off to the west, the reds and pinks blurring into that velvety violet that one can only see when one is far from civilisation. Deer Isle is remote enough that there is actually starlight, which is always something that I find jarring to remember. I have not lived anywhere that there was starlight in a long while. Sure is pretty.

Remote, and cold cold cold, and beautiful. A good home for a rustic table.