Now I love things made of twigs (see my store for details: twig coat racks and lamps and…) and I love circles and orbs, so you can imagine my delight when I drove past this perfect marriage of the two, this giant ball of twig, resting – not on the lawn of the village eccentric’s house, or the lawn of one of those woodsy types with an “Adirondack Furniture for Sale” sign hanging above his mailbox – no, this particular Giant Ball of Twig was located on the sort of complacent suburban lawn one finds all over America. This twig ball was placed somewhere between the hostas-planted-around-the-maple-tree, and the paved driveway ending in a two-car garage. And somehow this awkward juxtaposition of middle class America and off-beat Americana made the discovery of the twig orb (I really need to settle on a terminology here) even more thrilling.
There is a lesson here: a random ball of twig lurks inside all of us, a bit of the wildness of nature forced to submit to a shape as old as time, a sculpture that reminds us of something outside our living room flat-screen TV with its endless glorification of conformity to the artificial.
May your newly-mowed lawn always be graced with a giant ball of twig.