So, I won’t be getting rid of these. They embody a lot of what’s been lost in the digital world — the things I miss the most. Those little marks capture a process, even though it took place decades (or even a century) ago. I found these at the Vanves flea market in Paris which is smaller and far less overwhelming than the giant St. Ouen market at Clignancourt. They were lying flat on a table at the back of a stand. I saw a tiny hint of twine and wood peeking out among all the other more self-important objects, and that was it. They have since become an odd sort of talisman, of both work and perseverance.

Let me introduce to you the Miniman M-702 Germanium Radio. According to Wikipedia, “Germanium is an important semiconductor material used in transistors and various other electronic devices. Its major end uses are fiber-optic systems and infrared optics, but it is also used for polymerization catalysts, and in electronics and solar cell applications. It is finding a new use in nanowires.” As an element, it didn’t really come into its own until after WWII when it became an important component in the manufacturing of electronics. This particular radio was produced circa 1950’s or 60’s in Japan. These radios are still readily available on ebay and elsewhere. Check out this great flickr set of other germanium radios. And this one. And while you’re at it…these are amazing!

Mark Keoppen is a builder in upstate NY. He and his wife Wendy Townsend, a writer, live in a restored barn that Mark spent 10 years building with his own hands. Their home gives meaning to the idea of a structure being more than just the sum of its four walls. This place is literally transcendent. Their aesthetic is both minimal and lush — there is nothing extraneous in evidence. It seems to me that everything they bring into their lives has some purpose or deep significance. And the place itself is firmly rooted in its physical surroundings. That said, when I walked in the other day, I glanced to my left and saw these giant paintbrushes leaning up against a ledge in the entryway. My heart leaped at the sight of them. These aren’t just for decoration. Mark will, in all likelihood, use them. But in the meantime, they will continue to grace our presence.

Unbeknown to my mother, I had a pet baby squirrel for awhile when I was 11. I rescued it from our cat, who was an excellent hunter, but very poor at delivering the final coup de grâce. The squirrel would sleep in the pockets of whatever coat or sweater was hanging in my closet, and I fed it oranges and lettuce that I pilfered from the kitchen. It was only when he became a little aggressive that I realized it was time to repatriate him to the outdoors. Right now we have a family of squirrels living in a tree in our backyard, so as far as evening entertainment goes, we’ve pretty much given up watching movies or listening to music. There are three babies, one very attentive parent, and a lot of activity in and out of a tiny 2″ doorway. I don’t have a good zoom lens, so until then these guys will have to suffice. The clear plastic bobble-head squirrel, a gift from a friend, is available online at squirrelsandmore. And the lovely porcelain nuts are from the talented K. Grandey who is temporarily on leave from making ceramic nuts so that she can care for a new baby. And while we are on the subject, one of my absolute favorite story books as a kid, The Meanest Squirrel I Ever Met, written by Gene Zion, of Harry the Dirty Dog fame, is reassuringly still available in used editions on Amazon. This post is for Sue, my friend and fellow squirrel fan.

These freestanding educational cutouts were given to my friend Jason, a chicken owner/writer/professor (not necessarily in that order), for his recent birthday. They are part of a much larger collection of farm animals from the newly opened NYC branch of Kabinett & Kammer — a crazy, fantastic heavenly bonanza of a place. Filled to the brim with everything that should be in a modern-day curiosity cabinet… and so much more.