In this increasingly technological world, we intrinsically know the grounding effect of wood. Touching on this emotion is central to the quiet, the beauty, deep into our childhood as to a walk in the forest. I am grounded. In total awe the magnitude of the cedar, fir, pine, alder, willow, maple so ageless, so wise.

With its unique grain and rich gradation of colours, there is no denying the esthetic appeal of wood.

Reclaimed materials such as a windfall, beachcombing and our own GIRO has rewarded me with an abundance of wood. Projects have varied from an arbutus handrail which I found at Spring Beach last summer. The branch had been kicked around by the waves and weather, but was still strong. Graying and easily missed in the pile of seaweed, I dug it out. My grandson hauled it home, bumping and scrapping along the beach. But, the shape was right and we set about sanding it down until the real wood colour appeared in gold's and reds. Must say, we were surprised at our treasure. And that's the story on my handrail, a one step up from the front door.

In the midst of a nasty renno to repair the rotten corner of my house, was another discovery. This house was built who knows when, out of clear grade fir. You don't see this much anymore, sadly. The rot removed many pieces of the original fir where tossed on a pile, too broken or too brittle to be used, or so I thought.

A swing door made of this recycled clear grade fir now graces my home. Yes, it took effort, and all the swing-type hinges which 'popped' under the weight, had to be replaced with double the number they said in the small print on the package. But, no matter. The door is beautiful.

More and more, we want to be grounded, to be touching something real. Gravitation to the touch and feel of wood brings a sense of goodness, and my gallery of unfinished projects await.