I've been working on the same Christmas quilt (all by hand) for 2 years. It's very labor intensive, but it's the way my Grandma made her quilts so I wanted to do it the same way.
Because progress on the other quilt is so slow, I decided to switch gears and do a machine quilt to practice that technique. I ordered fabric online since I can't shop in person and have been experimenting.
I've also been making masks for our family so we have a supply. The blue fabric I ordered online. It is a custom Washington State themed fabric. Masks are scary. I wanted to try to make them more friendly with fun fabric.
The machine I'm using was given to me by my mother. She's been gone for 5 years and everytime I sit down to sew, I feel a connection with her. Times are stressful. Everyone could use their Momma right now...
My Little Library is really about two things to me: inspiring readers and building community. As a result of the quarantine, there has been a lot more foot traffic on my street-- more couples out walking in the evenings, dog walkers I’ve never seen before, families spending more time outside and strolling the sidewalks, and children out playing in their yards on my street being told they can ride their bikes "up to the Little Library then turn around."
Maintaining and visiting my library during the stay home order has been very rewarding for me. Book sharing with my neighbors brings me joy. None of the books that are in it at the moment were put there by me because they rotate so often right now, and I love the variety of strangeness that momentarily lives in there, like the red covered Engine 2 Diet Cookbook. Lately, a lot of interesting non-book things that keep neighbors occupied at home have appeared then disappeared from the library just as fast as the books—an unused Halloween werewolf makeup set, DIY tote bag, a feathery princess cape, a string of pearls, cursive workbooks, children’s card games, classical music cd’s, packs of seeds, and several puzzles.
Ultimately, as a teacher, I love the idea of promoting excitement about literacy to the kids in the neighborhood and having a way to connect people with books, especially now with libraries being closed, and having a meaningful way to build community as well as a reason to connect with me and to each other.
I love my Little Library now more than ever.
Jess would probably tell you that this time could best be defined by my increasingly unhealthy relationship with our toaster, which I now furtively visit multiple times daily; the result being that my pants no longer fit as they should, though perhaps I wouldn't want that recorded for posterity.
Rather I would say the chance to sit and enjoy the garden coming to life this last six weeks - the opportunity to work 8 hours a day at the kitchen table and watch the wisteria come into bloom has actually been a real treat. Or there's the front yard - perfect for social distancing - you can barely see us hiding behind the maple trees. So anywhere in the front or back, really, with or without the toaster. Also, Alex and I have been cycling a lot (in an attempt to combat that toast) so there could perhaps be a bike or two in there somewhere.
Alex got his bike last year for the Seattle to Vancouver ride. We signed up for it again this year and were just getting into some training when the virus struck. This year’s event has consequently been cancelled, but we’ve been continuing to ride nonetheless. I think last year we were about the same height, but he was lighter and somewhat faster. This year he’s considerably lighter, stronger, faster and - unless photographic evidence can perhaps prove otherwise - also maybe even just a bit taller.
My hat is a Nintendo DS hat, bought from their employee store when I was working on the design for their new Redmond Headquarters back in 2007/2008. I never really wore it much until this March as we all WFH (Work From Home). I like wearing it while out walking and about. I feel protected, really protected physically and emotionally with my hat on. Every few weeks with mask and hat on, I’d walk to the neighborhood convenience store (the Aloha Market run by a Vietnamese family) to get my 12 pack of Heineken. Out of habit, I’d continue to pay with cash ($20 bill each time) and get nervous with change that I received, which I have continued to keep in a plastic bowl in the garage.
My chair is a work chair from my dad. I have used the chair to reach higher spots to paint, to fix stuff, and to change light bulbs, etc. Never really sat in it until this March as we all WFH. Nowadays on many late afternoon/early evenings, I open my garage door, have my chair out in the driveway, drink my Heineken. with or without a Zoom happy hour.
We are holding pieces from “Oblique Strategies”, a boxed set of over 100 oracle cards meant to foster creativity. The adages on each card were created by musician Brian Eno and painter Peter Schmidt in 1975. Eno’s solo albums and his collaborations with David Bowie and Talking Heads were part of our soundtrack in the late 70’s and still are today.
We ordered the deck from Eno’s merch website on March 15, just as Healthcare officials were telling us we were in deep doo-doo. Our hope was that this set of flash cards could help stave off the inevitable boredom and ennui ahead. Simpletons are We!
On March 22, we went into lockdown. With all of the supply chain issues beginning to simmer, we thought we might not get our order in a month or so. But miraculously, “Oblique Strategies” arrived the next day.
Patreese’s card, the last in the deck, says “Gardening, not architecture.” Josh’s card says, “Where’s the edge? Where does the frame start?” In the portrait, we get to silently converse with the photographer too.
During our last trip to L.A. we went to a tiny theater to watch Magic. I think some of the macabre vibe from that performance crept into this still life below.
“10,000 Happy Thoughts and the Space Between” AKA “Happy” for short, is a drawing that is intended to serve as a meditation instrument. “Happy” is a meditation, both in the process of making (where for each time I spell out the letters H A P P Y, I reflect on a happy thought), and also in its living state where one can stare at the piece and reflect on their own “HAPPY” thoughts.
Rhythm and Repetition. Positive and Negative. Happy acts as visual representation of the fact that positive space, (or experiences), cannot possibly exist without some presence of negative space (or experiences). In fact, much like the human experience, it is the nuance between the positive and negative that brings life to the drawing.
My hope is that this piece can inspire its viewer to reflect on the nuanced beauty that happens between the positive and negative spaces in their daily lives.
The day Nixon resigned my brother and I were stopped at gunpoint by two angry cops for “going from place to place with no destination.” We were going home.
Destinations weren’t really allowed during the first months of quarantine, so “going from place to place with no destination” became the norm: short walks with our old dog, or longer ones with family or by myself. Wherever we wandered, we were heading home.
For a while, at home, I found myself using alcohol as relief from the catastrophe of so many deaths and so much chaos and buffoonery. Not smart, I know; but I wasn’t drinking alone. A wine-seller told me business boomed as people hoarded more than toilet paper and bleach.
Odd that the response of young people to a different and more horrific pandemic has brought relief, and inklings of new hope. It shows what leadership can do. They’re showing us a destination worth reaching.
I went to visit my friend Chloe right before the shutdown. She is a longtime career nanny, and so playtime always feels available when she is around. She had an extra hula hoop lying around from one of the kids she cares for, a child's hoop, and we started spinning together, several feet apart with our masks on.
All these memories came flooding back from my childhood: how much I loved hula hooping when I was a kid, how free I felt, and joyful. I felt like a child as I spun the hoop as an adult. I felt how wide I was smiling while I spun. So I just started hula hooping most every day.
It has evolved into more like dancing than simply spinning the hoop. I love moving with music, playing with slow and fast beats, my own little dance party. Spiral up and spiral down, I like the steady, pulsing rhythm you have to do or the hoop falls. The push from the ground through the feet to the whoosh of the pelvis. Grounding and consistent. It feels like a trance. And it feels like a massage, the constant pressure against my waist and hips. Round and round and round.
But mostly it's the feeling of making and being encircled in spirals, so fun and so familiar. It sets my mind at ease.
I have been postmating almost since the day I got back from school in March. Due to Covid I am required to wear a mask when coming in contact with people and I sanitize my hands between each interaction with customers. I mostly pick up food orders, but I have picked up a few orders from drug stores and pharmacies. This job gives me something to occupy my time during quarantine while making a decent amount of money, all things considered.
Even though my job expects me to essentially go out and break quarantine so others don’t have to, I don’t feel too much more at risk because of the sanitary precautions we have to take as couriers. Besides obtaining the food in the restaurant, it is pretty rare that I will come into contact with people because I usually just leave their food on the porch and ring the doorbell.
My Postmates credit card is an item I use every day that I work and it helps make my job easier. It is prepaid so that I have a way to pay for food I pick up from restaurants. Then when the customer pays, they pay Postmates.
With my new job, I haven’t learned much more than navigational skills, as I have limited human interaction when on the job, but I am now able to navigate Seattle better than ever before. I am so glad that I was able to find a job during this pandemic as a way to stay occupied while making money!
My computer means a lot to me because I can use it to communicate and play games with my friends during quarantine.
I built it myself, so I am able to to fix any problems I may have, and I know its capabilities when performing tasks. Building it myself also makes it feel more earned because I had to research the parts and devise a build that worked together and fit within my budget, and I had to figure out how to physically put it all together.
The Mask - It really has many layers for me. It is first a construction tool that we used as part of our daily, dusty work; suddenly we are hit by a pandemic, can’t get any, and are using homemade or medical masks instead. When Governor Inslee started Stage One and we legally returned to work on the Magnolia project, that first night someone wrote on the house with paint “stop work Trump Lovers” another place “FUCK YOU” and “Burn Baby Burn.” We were wearing masks and working within the State’s rules, but there is a big part of our community that feels the need to try and impose Covid Shaming on others that are not abiding by “their” set of rules. To me the mask is a key trigger point, those who wear them and those who don’t and some on both sides feel the need to try and shame the other side.
The Saw - to me the saw was emblematic of all our construction tools being quieted by the virus. On the Magnolia project, when we started up again it signaled to the neighbors that we are working and building. The City had been quiet and now that silence was being undone by the whizzing of a power tool ripping through lumber.
I built a plywood bike ramp for Jack to get him outdoors on his bike and off the bloody X-Box. The plywood was used as a temporary door from kitchen to garage on the Magnolia job, as the door company was shut down. I enjoyed repurposing it, and it makes me smile to remember that the virus, though terrible and frightening for so many, has helped families do things they normally would not have time or thought to do.
PS. I painted the door red, so fuck you.
When COVID first hit, we were all uncertain about how long these changes and disruptions in our lives would last. After two weeks of working from home, it was clear that we would be here for a while. I realized I needed to re-establish my morning routine in order to feel a sense of familiarity and normalcy. I did everything I previously did, in the order I previously did it. The last thing I would do before walking out the door to the bus is put on my shoes. That was the one change. I would now put on my slippers, sit down at the dining room table, and turn on my computer. My slippers keep my feet warm and comfortable during a very uncomfortable time. They created a constant for me. Their familiarity assured me that I am still “me” even though I find myself in this very strange, new world.
Despite this comfort, there was still a sense of uncertainty with my work and how I would remain connected with my colleagues. How would we have our conversations? Would we be as productive? Is this sustainable? Now after six months, it is normal to hold meetings through a screen, and our spatial backgrounds have become our constants for each other; we know what to expect when people turn on their camera. My background is my friend Ed’s painting that hangs in our dining room. Everyone in my company has now seen the painting, and it provides familiarity to my co-workers. Countless people have commented on how much they love it. I am sure that when Ed painted it, he never imagined that it would provide a comforting constant to my co-workers that assures them that this is Jill. She is the same person you knew before, despite this strange, new world.
These are some of my tools – brushes, sticks, wires, knives - anything I can use to move paint around. The shape of a brush is designed for a specific purpose, but I use my tools in whatever way will get the results I want.
I love buying brushes. There are 59¢ Chinese brushes from the hardware store, $75 handmade squirrel hair brushes for watercolor, rubber scrapers from Daiso, and stubs of brushes I used at 8 years old. It’s important to take care of your tools. Sometimes I think I spend more time cleaning and conditioning brushes than I spend painting.
Recent days have been similar to my norm. My work hasn’t changed. But I’ve been remotely coaching a friend, a scenic artist, helping her develop an abstract style. She and I have also collaborated on paintings for the USPS Art Project, an on-line artist-organized event created to bring awareness to the importance of the Post Office.
Painting is something I have done my whole life. It’s not mysterious, magical or sacred. There’s no meaning or message in what I produce. I paint because I paint, and I like to share it. I like showing people my studio, and was glad Kirk asked to photograph me here, the place I go to work.
Skateboarding has become a new hobby of mine that I picked up during my first term at college. My two best friends had skateboards and they taught me how to ride. When I was finally confident enough in my abilities, we went out and I bought one of my own. Back at school my friends and I would skateboard a lot on campus because the University has lots of paved paths that are easy to skate on. One of our favorite things to do was to skate across campus to our favorite boba shop late at night.
For me, skating during the pandemic simply reminds of the good times I had back at school, good times that were abruptly and unexpectedly taken away. When I’m feeling sad or alone or I miss my college friends, I like to skate around my neighborhood because it brings back all the happy feelings I had when I was at school.
I like the physical feeling of writing to plan what I hope to get done each day. I’ve always written in multiple pen and highlighter colors, which helps me remember things without looking back at them. I choose the color based on what the task feels like to me, which pen seems most appealing, and which colors I’ve already used and whether I want the new task to contrast to or blend in with others. I also highlight and star things to further draw my attention to them. It becomes a swirl of colors quickly and probably looks ridiculous, but it doesn’t bother me. I also like the feeling of crossing something off when I’m done with it.
On March 17th I started writing the global Covid-19 case count from the Johns Hopkins University tracker when I would log on in the morning. On April 1st I started writing the case count when I logged on and again before I logged off. On April 10th I started writing down the global and US case count in the mornings and evenings. In May I included the case count in Senegal because I was working closely with colleagues there. On June 9th I started writing only the morning global and US case count and have continued doing that. I’m not sure why, other than habit. The only color I’m consistent with is that I use black ink for the case counts, not to be morbid, but it feels appropriate.
I started collecting the bottles just after we got back from London last summer. I don’t really know why I started collecting them; I think I just thought they looked cool so I held on to them and never stopped holding on to them. I keep them displayed on a little shelf by my desk. During the quarantine I guess they give me something to do beyond video games.
When I was little, my mom taught my five sisters and me how to sew our own clothes. It was a way to save money and make things that nobody else had. With Covid and the scarcity of PPE early on in the pandemic, I turned to sewing as a way to make something that unfortunately nobody had - protective face masks. At first, I made them for my elderly neighbors and essential worker friends. I then joined with neighbors I didn’t even know, to sew masks for the 100 workers at our local grocery store. I made them for strangers and others also volunteering to distribute laptops to Seattle Public School students. I’ve now found a style I prefer and have made masks for my family for each day of the week, all with materials I already had at home.
Kirk took the pictures of me standing in the doorway of my studio where I teach my after school design classes - Blue Turtles Swimming. With the shutdown, the last two workshops of winter quarter were cancelled, and spring quarter workshops were cancelled altogether. With King County entering into Phase 2 of the WA State’s plan for reopening, in July I was able to complete the last two workshops - masks on, distanced, outdoors and with supplies being packaged for those who were only able to join us remotely through Zoom. The kids are begging for me to continue the workshops in the Fall. I need to start planning how that can happen in this new masked, distanced world.
Before the global pandemic, I had worked from home sporadically. Now, consistently working from home provided newfound flexibility in work hours, but other challenges quickly arose. My mental health was rapidly declining, so I began to search for ways to prioritize creative outlets. Sewing has always been a passion. Because my sewing desk became my work desk, I sought a non-space restrictive activity in our one-bedroom apartment. Pre-pandemic, my friend and I started a lunch club at work for water coloring, so I had the necessary supplies.
Because I tend to be a perfectionist and I never formally learned how to watercolor, this hobby was challenging for me. I began to search for resources to learn. I started following a woman on Instagram who creates amazing architectural sketches and paintings. She shared a new series that resonated with me: sketching her way through her teacup collection. It isn't that exciting but that was the point: don’t fret over finding the perfect thing to paint, just put brush to paper.
To get inspired I looked around the apartment and decided to document the space where we spend all of our time. I also flipped through old photos and began painting scenes from our pre-pandemic vacation to Greece.
At first I was frustrated that my skills weren’t progressing, but I have tried to remember that the process is more important than the product.
My object is my PRS guitar. Though this guitar is not my first nor my last, it will always be a special one to me. With this guitar we recently recorded our first EP. It came with me to London Bridge Studios where we recorded our most recent singles. Most notably, I played it on stage at The Moore Theatre. After that show we were placed under quarantine, which really made things slow down. As a band we were not able to practice or see each other face to face, so it forced all of us to think in alternative ways. We made a cover video of the song “Backfoot” by Dinosaur Pile-up and posted it on Instagram. To create it we sent tracks of songs back and forth as ideas and then as final takes.
This guitar has been to a lot of places, played all over, and it’s very special to me.
When I first emptied these boxes (maybe a week after Grandpa's funeral) I had all 16 cars out on the dining table. They were so beautiful. I didn't want to put them back in those deteriorating boxes. My roommate is very clutter-averse, but the holidays were approaching so I was able to win her over by only displaying 4 (I started with 5) on the sill with tiny string lights. I think she just let me have this one because they're still out there. Seeing these trains everyday while I'm cooking is a sweet little reminder of Grandpa’s presence in my life.
Grandpa was gifted a train set when he was little, from his dad (Pupa). He grew up in Brooklyn during the Great Depression, and coming from a working class family (older sisters worked to put him through school), receiving such a 'state of the art' gift meant the world to him. He always cherished those trains, and my dad says he feels like he inherited a similar enchantment.
The spirit of those trains made it to me through my dad, from watching Westerns with him, as well as references via Americana & Blues music we've shared over the years. Both have definitely contributed to my romanticized view of heavy industry. His background in engineering, mine in architecture, created a shared interest in built things. When we were kids I remember him taking us to train museums, air & space museums, etc. I remember him telling us that as a kid he wanted to grow up to be a hobo, and in another life I could easily picture him living a life on the rails.
This quarantine "strange trip" has been a strange gift. Before this global pause, time was this elusive "thing" that, as I get older, seems exceedingly difficult to find. But suddenly time has been essentially given to us. Now I have time to pontificate about the importance of trains in my life.
Soccer has been my fun activity over quarantine. I have practices with my team online through Zoom meetings. The meetings are a fun place to hang out with my friends and also practice. I’ve always loved soccer and it’s always been so exciting for me to play. Also over quarantine I’ve been playing on my Xbox a lot. Xbox helps with socializing with friends that I don’t get to see at soccer practice. I’ve also been doing little workouts and going on runs and practicing juggling to stay in shape. Quarantine has made it hard to connect with friends, but I’ve made the best of it.
My main object is my meditation cushion, which for me represents my meditation practice and the Buddhist studies I've been doing for some time now. Having that practice has been totally essential during this time, and I have immense gratitude for the path that led me to have the teacher I have and my spiritual community or "Sangha". And then especially with Ursula - when I knew her time was coming soon I used my practice to gather the courage to say goodbye and to try to have strength. Buddhism teaches us about the impermanence of all things and urges us to not cling or grasp. As George Harrison would say "all things must pass".
When we first went into quarantine, I was joking with people that this "better not screw up Ursula's 21st birthday". Well, deep down I knew my time with her was definitely short, and I was just hoping we'd get through it without having to say goodbye under these circumstances.
She was my touchstone in a furry being way that my meditation practice has been in a keeping me sane kinda way.
I have been playing NBA 2K on this TV through the Xbox. I use it to pass the time whenever I am bored. The screen is how I play all the games on the console, and without it the console is useless. It’s in the basement, so that is where I go to be by myself and have some alone time for a little while. I use it often so that’s why I wanted to choose the TV instead of an Xbox controller.
My notebook is important to me because of the different ways I use it to keep track of the scores and statistics that are happening in the virtual world of the Xbox. It helps me remember certain things that I wouldn't normally remember, like win/loss standings and player analytics. All the games that are being played within this virtual basketball world are kept within the notebook. It is another way I can pass the time of quarantine by playing these games and having fun.
I still remember the smell of my grandfather's garage.
Grease, used motor oil, gasoline, and cherry flavored tobacco (he smoked a pipe). Above his oil-soaked workbench were hundreds of rusty tools. Well, maybe not hundreds, but as a kid it seemed like it. I'd spend hours in there, taking apart things to see how they worked. He would give me a broken radio, an old typewriter, or anything with lots of small parts. I guess this is why I love machines.
My first car was a 1972 Toyota Celica. Of course, the first thing I did was start to take it apart. Thinking back, I don't think there was a single bolt I didn't ratchet off at some point. It was my baby. Before moving to Seattle I had to sell it. That was a sad day.
I always wanted another Celica. They are getting hard to find, especially one with the ultra-rare 18R-G racing engine. Somehow, I found one last year.
Working on the Celica reminds me of those days as a kid in my grandfather's garage. I still use his old 1/2" ratchet, which he gave me when I was 16. Everything about this car makes me feel youthful, grateful, and happy.
My objects are disk brake rotors from my 1974 Alfa Romeo GTV. I have owned this car for about 20 years and as you can imagine, I've grown attached to it for many reasons including its styling, engineering, performance and history. And yes, it has a name, made popular by my kids..."Guilia."
Guilia has seen many years on the road, but over the past several has been in a state of self-imposed restoration. Maintaining and restoring this machine has brought just as much joy as driving. Working from home due to the pandemic had afforded me an enjoyable opportunity and distraction to be able to "duck-out" more often into the garage and get lost in this frivolous endeavour.
She has brought me lots of smiles over the years, but if I'm honest, my two objects that have brought the most joy during this period of isolation have been Leza and Gabriel...my number 2 and 3.
During this pandemic, sometimes I was feeling bored doing school work, so I found a couple of ways to burn off steam around the house with objects I haven’t used in some time.
One is skateboarding. I like it because it’s thrilling and it’s something Jack and I can both do together. I started out barely able to turn or ride down hills, but now I’m doing those things and going off curbs too. Apart from some falls, I love the excitement and it’s now my favorite thing to do outside. I really surprised myself with my skateboarding ability and overcoming the fear I had of it.
My other new favorite activity is playing the ukulele because it makes a pretty sound, I can play it everywhere, and I love playing it around other people. There are a lot of great lessons for the uke on YouTube for all levels of skill and interest. That made it really easy for me to learn and get ideas. I always have music in my head, so playing the uke is a fun way for me to express myself.
My stack of implements - tools that I carry around with me almost anywhere I go - are at the ready for gathering information, selecting and purchasing materials and documenting my design. The concentration of my obligations during the pandemic has reached an all time high: kids at home, a remodel project in the works, an impending move, a second remodel - substantial alteration of our house, and my day job keep me occupied in our dining room, a.k.a. "air traffic control.”
Weekdays, weekends, mornings, evenings run together; stacks of paper, drawings, pencils, file folders do the same. Check-in’s with teachers and help with turning in school work shift to an endless list of materials to be ordered with my loyal laptop, while my trusty tape measure assists in window sizing & built-in design, the pencil and paper allow me to sketch it out - to make sure a detail is right, and the very smart little phone takes photographic notes on job sites and collects images of furniture, light fixtures, hardware, flooring and tile, all pending choices for the projects.
My stack keeps me working, while sunshine, outdoor wine socials, Zoom friends, good food, meditation, small successes and quiet family time keep me living.
This book is a great representation of what I care about most in this world...the environment. Reading this book (and others like it) has helped me to structure my quarantine into a productive time. I am constantly thinking about what I can do to abate my carbon footprint, looking at my home and what I use on a daily basis...food, my beauty and hygiene routine, consumption of single use plastics, and rerouting recurring purchases towards ethical and sustainable brands.
Stubborn optimism is one of the three mindsets discussed in the book. Amidst a pandemic and a corrupt justice system, and climate change showing its wrath through extreme weather, acidification of the oceans, over 200 species going extinct every day, and much more...our minds try and convince us to shrink in the face of a challenge that we cannot solve on our own. The good news is that we are not helpless, and having that optimism is mandatory in making the change.
Covid-19 first spread at a food market in Wuhan, China. Americans may like to judge the way those animals are sold as many are wild and the conditions of slaughter are not pleasant. However, the factory farm industry in America isn't any better, we just do it behind closed doors.
The moral of my quarantine story is that I am manifesting the world I want to live in. I urge you to think about the world you want for your kids, grandkids and so on, and actively pursue that world. We are a planet full of intelligent, empathetic, curious, passionate minds. I hope we can use our power to maintain and continue to share this beautiful, floating space rock. Be the voice for the voiceless.
I've played a ton of golf in my life. This season was way different.
Quarantine meant using the small yard to practice. A hitting net was added to the lock down shopping list with other nice-to-haves, like a trampoline, and bike parts for the kids. Used laptops, and upgraded wi-fi. Anything to make the new normal tolerable.
For whatever reason golf was one of the first activities to open. Twosomes only, masks in the pro shop, and no hanging around before or after your round. It was actually great -- no fuss golf. Golf for players.
I joined a men's club. I started tracking my handicap again. I committed to 18 holes each weekend, and 9 during the week. I played with my kid on Thursdays, and kicked up Friday night happy hour at the par three course. I was playing all the time.
I'd be out early in the fog, hoodie up, hands in pockets, bag on my back. A links jedi. Then it's summer, and I kept playing, and going to the range, and working on the game in the yard.
One Saturday in August I walked-on at my regular course, but it was packed so I had to wait to play. Practiced for an hour: driving range, chipping green, putting green. Shot a career best and broke a 24 year old record. And I could have gone lower.
It's a solitary game, and it's a lonely time, but that score I shared with everyone.
I love nature and love to stand with it. I chose a tree because I enjoy their cover and blossoms. They are beautiful things and they have many shapes and sizes. It’s great to get outside. I love to sit down and enjoy what I have around me. It gives me life.