Gatherer.

I have been compelled lately for reasons unbeknownst to me, to gather sticks. I have no idea why, or what I will use them for, although most certainly they will become part of some kind of art project in the not too distant future. All I know is that when I see just the right ones, I must have them.  

The sticks I gather have to have certain qualities. They must be fairly straight, with all of the bark having fallen away so that they are smooth, resembling bones. In order for the bark to fall away,  Mother Nature has to have had her way with them first, and so most of them are broken to about 12 inches or less, some have been bleached by the sun, and others have tiny grooves carved out by termites into insect hieroglyphics. They lay like an offering under the ancient trees at the historic cemetery where I walk with Max, and I can't resist them. 

I think many of us are drawn to nature and to natural elements. I know that the older I get, the more I appreciate the natural beauty that surrounds us, and the more time I want to spend taking it all in - both figuratively and literally.