It started with the mound of old bottles I found while wandering in the woods. I started hauling the unbroken ones up the hill, hoping I could figure out what to do with them, because I loved the way the clear and green bottles looked together. Then, one day, it came to me: They could border a garden, a pollinator garden outside our vegetable beds.
While hauling the bottles, I came across some old license plates. And a horseshoe. And hinges. By then, I was looking for old rusty items—not just bottles. I found old cans and and a beautifully rusted axe. But what to do with the pile of bits and pieces I was accumulating? While installing some of the bottle garden, it came to me: I could use the deer fence as a gallery of sorts to display all my rusted-out finds.
Scavenging in the woods, I have hauled home plants and stones and logs and bottles and even an old shipping crate and a tiller. Arranging these found "treasures" around the homestead has become something of an odd, little hobby that gives me a lot of pleasure. Now, that word has gotten out about my admiration for rusty things, the garden gallery even gets contributions from other scavengers—most recently a door knocker and an old auto part.
Art comes in many forms. I see beauty in stones and sticks, toothwort and tools, bottles and buckets—and my life is better for it.
While hauling the bottles, I came across some old license plates. And a horseshoe. And hinges. By then, I was looking for old rusty items—not just bottles. I found old cans and and a beautifully rusted axe. But what to do with the pile of bits and pieces I was accumulating? While installing some of the bottle garden, it came to me: I could use the deer fence as a gallery of sorts to display all my rusted-out finds.
Scavenging in the woods, I have hauled home plants and stones and logs and bottles and even an old shipping crate and a tiller. Arranging these found "treasures" around the homestead has become something of an odd, little hobby that gives me a lot of pleasure. Now, that word has gotten out about my admiration for rusty things, the garden gallery even gets contributions from other scavengers—most recently a door knocker and an old auto part.
Art comes in many forms. I see beauty in stones and sticks, toothwort and tools, bottles and buckets—and my life is better for it.