happy accidents with a hatchet?
a bob ross approach to carving wood
Our house used to have a willow tree in the back yard. The willow wasn’t really a tree. What would it be then?
Others, when they looked at it, they saw a tree. They saw a tree that left behind regular messes. They saw a tree infested with ants. They saw a hazard as its limbs were ready to let loose and impale those below in any wind stiffer than a dull belch.
These folks were boring. They lacked imagination, or at least a sense of whimsy, wonder and play. How dull to merely see a tree as a hazard, or something shading out the precious sunlight. Screw those guys.
They were blinded by their own biases. They couldn’t see what was directly in front of them. The willow? It wasn’t a tree. It was a playground. It held up a rope ladder, a climbing rope, a ninja line, a slackline AND a swing. It was a sanctuary, providing a shady spot to swing and dream on hot summer days. It was a catcher of kites and a climbing gym for kittens. That tree was where both my children and cats learned about gravity…
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