When I was little, I visited a re-enactment fort where I saw a woodworker making a rocking chair with nothing but simple tools and his hands. It blew my mind, and I knew then what I wanted to do when I grew up. People laughed when I shared my dream, since it didn’t sound convincing coming from an eight-year-old. Decades later, I became an artist and photographer working in film production, fully immersed in the creative process—but I had long forgotten that childhood discovery of woodworking. Then, I met a baby raccoon.

Raising him led me to collect nature’s sticks—first for vases and flower beds, until I realized they could be hooks or needles. Many handmade hooks later, with joy in my heart, I remembered my childhood dream—and found I was living it.