The Bowl From the Tree Across the Street

Same craft fair as the soap, different table. This one belonged to a guy who turns bowls out of walnut and leaves the bark on the rim, which is either a bold choice or an obvious one depending on how much you think about bowls. I bought one on the spot. I have picked it up more times today than any object has a right to be picked up.

Here is the part I could not walk past. The walnut came from a tree that fell on the Wade House property, which sits about two hundred feet from a house I used to live in. I have probably driven past that exact tree a hundred times without knowing it. He also mentioned, in the same unbothered tone you'd use to mention the weather, that his bowls sit in a well-known museum's permanent collection. That is not a small thing to say quietly at a folding table.

Our Home department has always been built for exactly this: one tree, barely interrupted, priced like the singular object it is. This is the second entry in the Local Makers Spotlight, two tables in one afternoon, and I am starting to think the craft fair circuit is just a supplier directory nobody labeled correctly.