We’re far far from home right now in Vermont. Having put our little spot in Dripping Springs on the market, we decided to stay away for 6 months. The first we spent in a friend’s snow bound cabin in St Adolphe d Howard, about 2 hours from Montreal. The next 5 months, we’re spending in our preferred rental house in Burlington, Vermont.
The thing about me is that though I love to travel and feel the various textures of the world, I am an inveterate home body. To me, the best part of any ocean crossing adventure is the pull I feel, constantly, to return to my not so tidy hobbit hole.
Here I am now, 3 months homeless. I have no permanent address, and my babies are sleeping on crib mattresses on the floor. The hobbit in me quivers.
If there’s one thing I do better than feather a nest however, it’s plan. I have lists, databases, and maps of potential next homes. I have flowcharts in my head of just how our move southward will go. I also have custom furniture.
My brother in law, Matt Mitchell, it turns out is quite the artist when it comes to woodwork. He has recently founded a custom furniture business called Austin Joinery. He’s building a portfolio, and so I managed to commission two very special beds for my girls. These will be the first feathers laid in my next nest and I find it appropriate that they are for the girls, made by family, and flecked with symbolism.
The frame is of Massaranduba, aka Bullet proof wood. To stand up to my kids and our frenetic life, bullet proof is good:
The inlays are burled walnut. Burled as in full of knots. Imperfect, just like their mom.
The final touch is a walnut inlay of a personally significant deco rose design:
That design is very similar to one that I have tattooed on my back. It’s a memorial tattoo for my best friend and my father’s father, who died within months of each other in 2001. The grandfather grew beautiful roses. The friend’s memory confronted me repeatedly on a trip I took to Scotland. I first saw a similar design in Glasgow and it reminded me of her and him simultaneously.
As it stands, I have no permanent address. I have a home, the place I carry with me to where ever Andy and I land. My nest is only really in my mind just now though, and these two pieces of furniture built with the aid of a talented craftsman, are the first feathers I have for it.
Not The Knowing One 