There are various telephone poles around this little river town, and they all wear the history of their secondary usage with pride: Lost Kitten, Backhoe for Sale, Firewood, Church Supper, Brush Hogging…

As a rule, I don’t particularly like eating or drinking from a black plate or cup. It has something to do with wanting to let light into the composition. There are exceptions of course. But these scratched melamine plates made my case. The upside is that the patterns created by all of the knife marks looked like little drawings.

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.

About the size of a small loaf of bread, and surprisingly heavy, this little beauty sits on the windowsill in Pamela Mayer’s shop. It wouldn’t mean much to someone who doesn’t sew, but to Pam, an amazingly gifted clothing designer, this pin cushion is something to be treasured (maybe even guarded) and used. Every day.

The top photo is just a log. Probably destined for the wood stove this winter. The photo below that is the log my husband uses to split larger logs into kindling. I like the pattern.