Life everlasting

Though I am taking time off from work this week, the rest of the world is busy making things. It’s easy to be awed by what I see people doing with their lives. This first day away from home has been a study for me in human creativity and industry.

We are in Vermont with special friends who recently suffered the loss of two beloved parents. The father — to ensure his family's privacy I'll call him Hann — was a master woodworker who grew up and trained in Germany. He was an electric, commanding presence who did not like holding still. My own grandfather was a woodworker from Berlin who came to Southern California to build houses. From the moment I met Hann and his family, I felt a kinship hewn from sawdust and ancestry. Though we are acutely aware of Hann's absence on this visit, we see his handsome work all about us. It will be impossible to forget him.

The woodworking patriarch loved to spend time on Spirit II

which is docked on Lake Champlain. 

Among the many pieces he made for Spirit II is this table.

Upon waking on the first bright and chilly morning of our stay in Vermont, my friend Berta, who is Hann's daughter-in-law, and I took a walk in the woods. We both routinely start our day with a little vigorous exercise outdoors. This morning a strong wind roughed up Burr Pond and sent leaves scrambling. On September 22 fall finally gave us a sobering nudge. Berta had her walking sticks and I had my iPhone camera. We plunged on and up. 

Such early morning outings in the woods or along the shore give us time to recharge. We’ve learned that undistracted time spent outdoors boosts our creativity. And, as this day has reminded me, humans are, at their core, creative beings.

Berta pointed out the many salamanders crossing the path we took. 

Soon the leaves, which are just starting to turn and fall, 

will match the salamanders’ glorious coloring.

It was so early in the morning that the pond 

we hiked to looked and sounded like it was just waking up.

Hann came to America to practice his craft and support his family. What he started, his son carries on. Erich built and periodically expands the growing plant in Rutland to produce the beautiful wood windows and doors he and his crew make for customers around the country. Often they are called upon to design windows doors that seem more like works of art than a means of access or merely conveyors of light and fresh air. I've seen groups of architects and contractors gather in Erich's shop to marvel, in awe and respect, at his feats of breathtaking design and workmanship.

Just down the street from Erich's plant is the Carving and Sculpting Center in West Rutland, site of a former marble quarry. Here carvers and other artists now gather annually to create and exhibit works made from marble, stone and found objects. The vast grounds are littered with all shades of glistening marble. Sculptural works are found throughout the property. Marble crunches underfoot when you walk. And the sculptors at work on their pieces are covered in marble dust, looking not unlike the pieces they're carving.

33-year-old Alasdair Thomson of Edinburgh, Scotland, 

carved this 2,400-pound wedding dress after a dress 

by designer Pnina Tornai. Next week he moves this piece 

to Kleinfield bridal boutique in NYC to sit among the real gowns. 

“If people in the shop don’t realize at first that it’s marble, 

then I have succeeded,” he told a newspaper reporter.

Hann started the window and door crafting company

that his son Erich now runs. They 

made these windows in the Sculpting Center, 

which is built of marble.

Rick Rothrock of Wilmington, Delaware, 

is working on this marble bench for Newburyport, Massachusetts.

It will take him another year to finish the bench.

Here’s another sculpture by Rothrock. 

It’s impossible not to run your hand 

along the silky finish of the white marble.

Here are three more sculptures (of many) that we discovered on 

the trails at the marble quarry. 

The marble undies are just one of the items on the clothesline below. 

This bittersweet trip to Vermont, spent in affection and appreciation, has been a poignant reminder of the creative drive we all nurture, rue, ignore, and sometimes milk for all it's worth. Whether carving wood or marble, words or song, a juicy roast chicken from the local farm or a classic shoulder-length bob, we all want to pause to recharge and reconsider. It's different for each of us. Hann, whose remarkable drive kindled a network of love and livelihood for many, had Spirit I and II to bring him where he needed to be.