When I was young, I would wake up, rush into my parents room, stand by the side of my father who lie half-asleep in bed and nudge him, asking,

“Dad, is today a Wood Day?”

He is a very handy man and seemed to be able to mend anything. There would be small projects, repairing a section of flooring, building a birdhouse.

Often, my contribution took the form of nailing boughs of leaves to a plank of wood, something that would end up out of sight of the finished project, a sort of talisman that would remain buried beneath the floorboards for years.

As I grew older and developed along my own life path, this unseen language would remain part of my perspective of working with hand and wood.

A protective force, a guiding principle, though, also, a desire to help, to learn, to be together.

I believe this work is more than just a job, but is rather a moment to connect to where we are, who we are, and where we would like to go. A chance to stand on common ground that has silently been guiding and supporting us, nourishing our lives with the simplicity of twig and leaf.

I wish to ensure that there is always another tomorrow, another good morning, another Wood Day to share in together, another opportunity to learn and grow.