mother's work

A MOTHER'S WORK is never done. I've heard this all my life, and it still applies after she's gone. It's hard to believe it has been almost nine years since my mother died. Still, I feel her constant presence in my life. This year has been especially active with serendipitous happenings. This lets me know that there is only a thin veil of consciousness separating my day-to-day life from her undying spirit. My mother's handiwork continues to weave itself into my life's fabric in surprising ways, so I persevere in honor of her yearly preserving.

BELLES OF BALL | Last year, replicas of Ball's blue 1913 Perfect Mason Jar were released, selling eight times what the company projected; this year it reissued the brand's green 1914 Perfection line.

MY MOTHER WAS industrious to say the least—from putting up her famous dill pickles, icicle pickles, bread and butter pickles and sometimes, green tomato pickles every year—to canning and freezing almost every uneaten vegetable that was produced from our family garden. Those perfect pickles are all gone now (my nephew Kris still tries his hand at making them), but this year I found a commercially available version that came as close as my memory can get to how those divine garlicky-dill cucumber spears tasted.

FITTED FOR FLOWERS | The sealing lids that come with the jars have been replaced with flower frog lid inserts to create this floral tree (made by Ashland and distributed by Michaels).

THIS "TREE" celebrates all this by using blue and green retro canning jars as vases for a lush flower display. Although my mother's jars were always clear glass (produced much later), she always saved and reused the rings and jars, only buying new inner lids every year to ensure a proper seal for the joys of next season's pickle and relish tray. The tiered wire stand is reminiscent of the canning and sterilizing process used to prepare the jars for the careful alchemy of preserving.

I MISS THOSE DAYS of being able to run to the hall closet to fetch another jar of pickles, German vegetable soup, pickled okra, or canned stewed tomatoes. I miss our bountiful family garden we grew every year, sharing a large garden plot and responsiblity with the neighbors who lived across the street and next door. The garden was luxuriously large by many standards today. We grew at least 10 football-field-length rows of Silver Queen corn, several rows of snap beans with bamboo teepees for them to entwine, a half row of carrots, a couple of rows of potatoes, squash, radishes, purple-hulled peas, butter beans . . . the list goes on-and-on, and only changed slightly from year-to-year.

LOCAL TREASURES | These truly incredible artisan chocolates are handmade by Adam Turoni of Chocolat by Adam Turoni, based in Savannah, Georgia—a richly tasty way to celebrate the sweet times.

THIS IS A SYMBOLIC celebration of that yearly harvest that continued into the fall with a second late summer planting of turnip greens, mustard greens and collards. Life will never be the same for this boy that has chosen to live in the city, but I will always have the memories of the fruits of mother's work of preserving the bounty from my father's carefully-planted and tended crops. I am lucky to know what it took to make all of this happen, as well as having had a hand in it. To have gotten my hands dirty in the soil, helped me learn that we truly reap what we sow in life, even symbolically. This exuberant and bountiful crop of flowers (the peach-colored roses I grew in a container garden) are a living metaphor for a life well-lived, under the tutelage of a mother (and a father) that taught me how to love. This is a happy Mother's Day because her work is still not done. And this is my way of remembering.

©2014 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, growing, photography and styling by Darryl Moland.

gifted gestures

A GIFT that won't fail to be appreciated is at once personal and unique. You can never go wrong with an ornament as a gift if you match the ornament to the recipient's taste level. Also, if you put consideration into it being something symbolic of your relationship with them or something pertaining to their personality and likes, it becomes an especially thoughtful gesture. Since Matthew Mead has been an ardent supporter of my blog and has included my work in last year's and this year's issue of his holiday magazine, as well as a recent blog post where he named me "King of the Forest,"  I gifted he and his wife a literal tree ornament like the one you see above. Last year, I gave them a different tree ornament, along with a copy my book The Decorated Tree. He's already utilized this year's ornament as a prop in one of his beautiful photographs illustrating how to decorate a mantle.

EVEN IF YOU'RE a last-minute shopper, the variety and abundance of ornaments on the market during the holidays is so vast, you will surely to find something special for everyone on your list—even if they are hard to buy for. Ornaments also make great tie-ons for special gifts. Since I am on the constant lookout for the perfect ornaments to decorate the trees for this blog, I see the best-of-the-best in my collecting pursuit. I've found that selecting ornaments that are neutral in color (or even clear glass like this beautiful heart) are the best way to go when buying one as a gift, because they can be incorporated on almost any tree. And what says "I love you" more than a heart-shaped ornament? I collect heart-shaped ornaments in memory of my mother, as I maintained a yearly tradition of tying one onto a special gift to her every Christmas. The collection still grows in her memory.


THE CHRISTMAS after she passed I had a dream about her in which I gave her a brooch that inspired an entire tree. I'm including the photos of the tree here, but you can read the original post here. This tree is an assemblage of  ornaments that remind me of my mother's spirit and humor. It served as a altar of sorts to her memory. It's still one of my favorite trees because it is so symbolic of a mother's love and was completely inspired by a dream of a gift I never got to give her, except in my dream, which is why I entitled the post "Tree of Dreams."


IF YOU TAKE a closer look at this tree, you'll see a myriad of symbolic and figural ornaments, all brought together by the cohesive color scheme inspired by the brooch. Even though most family trees are a hodge-podge of family memories (and there's nothing else like them), the trees I present in my blog are designed to create a certain theme or mood, which dictates that I usually stick to a predetermined color palette as I have in this post. Still, there is room for a lot of variety within such parameters. Not long after my parents had passed, I gave ornament gifts to my siblings representing my parents (a bluebird and a butterfly). I detail the special packaging in which I presented them in this post.

The Tree of Dreams spread as it appears in my book.

THE BROOCH (or the facsimile I found after having had the dream) inspired the tree above. You'll see it at the top of the photograph above. Another brooch I happened upon this year reminded me of a Christmas tree pin my mother used to wear. The tree brooch caught my eye in a glass cabinet at the checkout of a store that sells soft drinks and snacks, of all things. I saw the brooch as I made my purchase and immediately asked to see it, and I bought it as another memento of my mother's memory. Maybe this tree brooch will inspire another traditionally-colored tree. Maybe it's a message of inspiration from my mother to create one! I think my more sophisticated adult approach is much different than one as seen through a child's eyes. Or maybe it's only a reminder from the universe to rekindle the innocence I've sometimes lost in seeing a tree as a child would see it. Any way you slice it, it's a definite creative challenge to think of a way to create that innocent wonder and magic.


HANDMADE ORNAMENTS are always welcome gifts, such as this polar bear made by my friend David Schump. In his modernized tramp art style, he creates ornaments sold on his website entitled "The Art Tramp". I've bought two ornaments from him this year and have two more on hold that he has made. He makes them in limited quantities, but I'm not sure if he has plans to make multiples of this one-of-a-kind polar bear pictured above. Please check out his site for other beautiful tramp art creations, including beautiful symbolic boxes here. The hand-blown glass deer ornament at the bottom of the photo above, is also quite special. Both ornaments would be a welcome addition to any tree, certainly adding a personality that only animals can. Animals evocative of winter are especially appropriate gifts to celebrate the winter solstice that happens just a few days before Christmas (December 21st this year). They also serve as a reminder for us to be careful stewards of the eroding environment in which such animals live.


MANY ORNAMENTS are commercially available, such as this lettered cardboard butterfly and a sturdy metal peace sign, which looks as if it's made from twigs. I gave the butterfly ornament this year as a gift to a former companion since butterflies represent his sister, who died of cancer much too early. I know how much he loved her and how he cherishes the butterfly symbol his family has adopted to represent her life. Either of these ornaments would be an appropriate gift for your more gentle, peace-loving friends, or as a special memory of one.

STARS ARE THE SHINING symbols of the light of the season. They give us hope for a future filled with the best things life can offer. It's no secret how stars have figured into my world since that special night in Tulum I've written about in posts this year. These two gold stars were gifts for Devin and serve as a reminder that while reaching for the stars in his new life in New York City, he should not forget the stars we saw on that unencumbered beach last November and the love we professed for one another. The light of the stars in such an atmospherically unobscured sky is our gift from the universe, reminding us all how insignificant we are in the big scheme of things and humbling us enough to live our lives with unconditional love.

TODAY WOULD have been my parent's 68th wedding anniversary. They were married December 23rd, 1945 and both lived short of their 60th anniversary in 2005. I feel extremely lucky to have had the bedrock example my parents both set and the real unconditional love they shared with my entire family. Love hasn't worked out so well for me, but I'm in a different situation and unable to legally marry. Maybe one day, that will become a reality wherever I live, as it has already for many in this country and around the world. But until then, I'll keep trying to find the one who will make that sort of unconditional commitment and stick by my side, for better or for worse. I am truly ready for that to happen.

MUCH LIGHT and LOVE to everyone this holiday season. May you and yours find the indefinable magic of the season. And remember those special people in your lives that are less fortunate than you, and include them in your family gatherings to share in the joy of Christmas.

©2013 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland.

Tree photos by Claudia Lopez Photography.

heart strings

LOVE is connection. A deep connection that pulls at your heart strings. Whether you love, have loved or lost—these connections always feel achingly similar. Valentine's day has never been one of my favorite holidays, because when you're not able to be with those you hold dearest to your heart for any reason, then it seems insignificant at best and heartbreaking at its worst.

FRAGILE HEARTS | A red-gridded heart was tied to a special Christmas gift my mother received from me years ago and is from Neiman Marcus. The small bumpy ornament (left) is an antique reproduction by Bethany Lowe Designs, which I purchased last year from Bayberry Cove and part of a varied set of three seen on the tree. A ceramic faux bois vase makes the perfect container to give the tree height.

MY MOTHER, who would have celebrated her 89th birthday on February 10th of this year originally inspired this collection of heart ornaments. Part of this collection was started many years ago—as they were individually tied to Christmas gifts I gave to her—one-by-one. They were never meant for Valentine's Day until four years after she had passed. I first photographed  them for a blog post on her birthday in 2009 entitled Hearts of Glass. As I hold these ornaments touched by her and tied by heartstrings, I'm firmly connected somehow to worlds unknown.

HEART BLING | These two hearts may seem like the odd men out on the tree, but they are significant to me for many reasons. The metal rhinestone-studded wings folded into a heart shape is one of two such ornaments I randomly happened upon at Homegoods a few years back, where this past season I also found this glittered Oberfrankishe Glas heart. You have to have a keen eye to find such treasures nestled within all the market outcasts in such stores.

THIS YARN-WRAPPED wire tree has been a meditation of both love and loss for me. The tedious task of upcycling an existing paper-wrapped tree by over-wrapping all of its branches in thin pale pink cotton yarn was time well-spent in reflection. Valentine-themed ornaments are tied to this tree with the same yarn wrapping its branches—branches which were used originally in my blog post entitled White Christmas. 

CARDINAL RED | This hand-blown glass bird ornament could represent one of the showiest of winter birds, the cardinal. Interestingly enough, this brightly-colored bird is always the male of the species. The glass birds were gift from a friend and part of a multi-colored set (the smoke grey glass bird is also on the tree) and are distributed by Roost Home Furnishings.

I DROPPED Devin at the airport with his one-way ticket to New York City on February 2nd. He left his job and most of his belongings here in Atlanta and headed to the Big Apple—as dreamers do—with big plans and a heart full of hope. My heart follows him there. The direction from here is still undetermined, and the tugging will continue until we both have both tested the tension and find the point at which the tightropes into our futures might coincide in tandem again.

EARLY LIGHT | This photo of Devin (left) and I was taken just before we left for the airport on February 2nd, 2013, when he left for New York City.

LIFE IS at once, exciting and heartbreaking—up in the air, as they say. Going out onto a limb is the only way to find yourself in the life you have imagined. I wish Devin all the luck in the world on this journey he must take. It has spurred me to gain the momentum again to live my dreams and find a place where my work is rewarding—by doing what I do best. The sun is shining in both of our faces. But, the physical distance between us casts a long shadow for now. It isn't ever an easy journey to set off into the unknown.

SWEETS FOR THE SWEET | A metal pedestal from Star Provisions is topped with a paper doily and decadently piled high with delicately-flavored Turkish delight in rose and lemon, a 17th century recipe manufactured by Hacizade.

IT WAS ONLY seven years ago that Valentine's Day ushered great sorrow, when my then 33-year-old nephew, Alan died on February 14, 2006. So Valentine's Day—as it will continually be for the rest of my life—is a day of love and sadness combined together and mixed into an emotional stew. It's certainly not easy to swallow, but gives great sustenance, nevertheless.

GERMAN BEAUTY | The most finely-crafted old world ornaments are still made in their German birthplace. A fine example is the company Oberfrankishe Glas which made this beautiful hand-glittered heart ornament in Germany.

TRUER WORDS have been never been written than those that poets write. The following phrase from Alfred Lord Tennyson's poem In Memoriam:27, 1850 applies more than ever with with the pull and tug of the present, the gentle nudges of my memory and a tenuous tightrope directed toward the future. Connections of the heart are all firmly tied to those we love dearly. Only for lack of words, do we call them heart strings. But they are more than that.

I hold it true, whate'er befall; 

I feel it, when I sorrow most;
'Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

A VALENTINE card is the most personal and poetic way to express your love for someone. It might be the most important component of a Valentine gift. Valentine's Day is certainly one of the most card-centered holidays of all. If your not crafty or designer-ly enough to make your own, buying a handmade card crafted in the capable hands of a graphic designer/crafts-person, is in order. Your love is certainly not mass-produced and impersonal, so why should the big card companies get all the love? Here are two examples—one custom-designed and another handmade. I designed this valentine (inset, above) at my computer, printed it and gave to Devin the night before he left for NYC. The beautiful stitched card (below) is handmade by another designer friend, Maya Metz Logue.

FOR LOVE | (Inset photo, above right) I designed this card to give to Devin for his send off to New York, as homage to the famous LOVE sculpture by Robert Indiana. HEART STRING VALENTINE | (Above) Maya Metz Logue makes handmade cards that are hand-cut and tied with embroidery thread. She is an art director, graphic designer and illustrator living in Birmingham, Alabama. Her individually handmade cards like this Valentine card, can be bought on her Etsy site by clicking on this link.

©2013 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland
handmade card by MAYA METZ LOGUE

a bluebird and a butterfly

WINGED CREATURES are understandably associated with transformation, freedom and an unencumbered ability to soar. That's something we earthbound humans have long held a jealous fascination with. Imagine being able to quickly dart around in thin air, ride the wind and come back down to earth whenever we wanted. It would certainly give us a different perspective of the world—a bird's-eye view—if you will. From that vantage point, I'm sure we could all see things a bit differently. We could see the awesome wonder of nature in it's entirety instead of a tree or a leaf at a time and we might have more of an appreciation for being a part of it.

MEMORIAL DAY, to me is not just about fallen military war heroes or the beginning of summer. It is also a time to reflect on what being a citizen of the world means, regardless of military affiliation. Although my father was a U.S. army veteran of WWII and came home safe, I knew his life was marked by the atrocities he saw during the war. At that time my mother worked in a manufacturing plant, taking over jobs that were usually dominated by the men who were off at war. Essentially, she was a “Rosie the Riveter,” which has become a strong symbol for feminism. These formative parts of their lives forged an amazing strength and fortitude. They met upon my father's return home from WWII, by my father seeing my mother with a girlfriend who turned her down for going to see a movie that night. My father stepped in and told her he'd go to that movie with her. And the rest is history. If they had lived another year, they would have celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary. I miss hearing them tell this story, but can hear the intonation and love in their voices when I remember this.

THESE UNUSUAL jobs for their time bought claim to a proud part of history. They wouldn’t recognize our country as it is now and I’m not sure they would be entirely sold on the ideals (or lack thereof) that we seem to fight wars for these days. They were a part of the Greatest Generation—they were a part of fighting the "good war" in ending Hitler's reign. My mother and father were both “war heroes” in the battle for the ever-elusive American dream. I don't think it's because of them though that we're in the shape we're in as a country. I think our overall values have been maligned since then by corporate greed and a lack of respect for Mother Nature.

Enlarge image to a legible size by clicking on it twice.

THESE ORNAMENTS are symbols of my parents. The bluebird represents my father because of his sparkly blue eyes and the pink butterfly represents my mother because it was her favorite color. Of course both of these ornaments also represent in them everything winged creatures do, as noted in the first paragraph of this post. I bought four of each, one set for myself and the others for each my three siblings as Christmas gifts in 2007. This was two years after my parents had died. I designed a card (shown at right) to fit in the bottom of the box made for keeping them.

REMEMBRANCE is the best way to bring them close now. But I also remember the simple gift of hope for living “the American dream” that was instilled in all of us. It seems in the world we live in today, that dream is becoming distorted for more and more people as the classes divide disproportionately, leaving the middle class, of which we were a part of struggling to just get by. There's no room for dreams within that scenario. But I'll remember what my parents represented and keep plugging along. That dream was simply goodness and learning to fly.

  

WINGED FLIGHT | (Top): These glittery ornaments were both from the 2007 holiday collection at Z. Gallerie and were Christmas gifts to my siblings representing my parents. Blue was the color of my father's eyes and pink was definitely my mother's signature color. Flight was something they acquainted all of us with, even in spirit.

WINGED VICTORY | (Above): I remember seeing this several years ago when in Washington D.C. and being overwhelmed with its beauty. One of the most beautiful and symbolic memorials to the Greatest Generation, four American eagles hold a suspended laurel wreath in the Baldacchino sculpture that is only one part of the beautiful National WWII Memorial in Washington, DC. The memorial is classically-designed as it should be for the era. It was only opened to the public on April 29, 2004. Photo by Richard Latof. 

©2011 DARRYL MOLAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Collecting and styling by Darryl Moland,
Photo of the WWII memorial by Richard Latof, 
sculpture by Baldacchino.

CatMan Tree

Last night I saw the CatMan Tree had bloomed again. In itsbranches were nestledcats of every type and color. I watched in awed silence as the CatMan gently placed his children upon the earth in a tribute he makes the night of May 5th only once every fifty years.

—Odette Colón

IT'S NOT OFTEN (maybe once every 50 years)—like today on my 50th birthday—that you feel like a kid all over again. It's also not often you're immortalized in a fairytale. The beautiful card my children's book illustrator friend Odette designed for my birthday is shown in the photo, replete with a tall tale and original artwork! My birthday so far has been amazing. It started a couple of days ago at work (since I'm taking today through the weekend off—deservedly so!). My coworkers threw me an incredible party this past Wednesday at work with a big cake and lots of food and gave me a gift card for an iPad! So I'll be able to blog from anywhere now! I can't thank them enough—I certainly feel the love!

I LOOK FORWARD to an impromptu dinner tonight with a small group composed of a friend, a relative and my new love at a restaurant called Top Flr here in Atlanta. Tomorrow night it's a Kylie Minogue concert with Jon and and a friend. 

My good friend Peggy Dana modified
Princess Beatrice's fascinator with the
addition of the number 5 for the
best (virtual) birthday hat ever! 
(That's me on my 49th birthday).

AGE IS ONLY a number (I'll keep telling myself that). Fifty is the new forty, right? All I know is that even though my life hasn't been a fairytale, I've been pretty damn fortunate to see the things I've seen, to live the way I have, and to continue to live, grow and learn. My friends and my family have been there for me to help make it all possible. It's not what you have, but how much you are loved. That is all you can take with you when it's time to move to the next realm of existence. 

I KNOW—my mother told me (without speaking) when I was holding her hand at her death in 2005 (and in one experience shortly after) that life goes on—and it is beautiful and full of love. It's all about how you look at it and how wide you open your eyes to receive all the secrets of the universe.

ON THIS upcoming mother's day, I send all my wishes and love to my mother (the roses in the photo above are from her rose bush I carry with me wherever I go—and it is blooming profusely this year!). I thank her (and my father) for my life every day. They taught me how to love—and truly, that is the best gift anyone can give. And you know what? You'll find that while you're being taught, you're actually teaching. My mother told me so. 

©2011 DARRYL MOLAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Collecting and styling by Darryl Moland
CatMan Tree illustration by Odette Colón
Fifty Fascinator Photoshopped by Peggy Dana 

valentine tree of hearts

A FAR CRY from making lackluster cakes in my childhood neighbor's Easy-Bake Oven, the chemistry of seeing flour and sugar and other ingredients morph into a baked confection was our first exercise in creating for ourselves what our mothers and grandmothers so deftly concocted with expert confidence. There is nothing else like cookies, cakes and pies. Sometimes, I wonder if we shouldn't just have dessert first, instead of saving room for it as an afterthought. It's no wonder Valentine's day has become a day to give sweets to loved ones.

MY MOTHER,  a consummate homemaker, was seemingly always in the kitchen cooking, canning something from the garden, or washing dishes. She always preferred to make cakes and pies over cookies. A good Southerner wasn't worth their salt if they couldn't bake a decent cake or lighter-than-air biscuits. It's not that way anymore. I think she liked to bake cakes best because of their scene-stealing grandiosity. Biscuits with butter and homemade preserves or with peppery milk gravy are another story altogether. Maybe growing up surrounded by cakes is the reason I obsessively collect cake plates, just as sweet memories of the holidays drive collecting the ornaments which are the raw material for this blog. Growing up in the American South, there were always cake walks, birthday cakes, fruitcakes, and even pancakes and potato cakes. This would sometimes coalesce across the community with fundraiser bake sales full of homemade goodness. Who could resist contributing to a cause that way?

EVERY YEAR  at Christmastime, I remember going out to the back porch to drive nails into the eyes of a fresh coconut, drain the milk into a glass, and crack the shell with a hammer. I would bring it to mother in the kitchen and we would peel off the thin outer layer of the slightly sweet meat. She would grate the coconut, toss it with confectioners sugar and press it into the the icing of the tallest layered cake she could make that would stand upright, even if it was held together inside with toothpicks. It was always quite a sweet spectacle and was the first thing everyone in the family would devour from a counter laden with other treats like pecan pies, a wine-soaked fruitcake, date-nut rolls, and even a competing German-chocolate cake. Nothing else seemed to compare to that stately white beauty layered and dressed in fresh coconut. It was mouth-watering deliciousness.

A VALENTINE TREE  (above) began with the idea for a tree full of hearts of one sort or another. An Easy-Bake light bulb went off and cookies came to mind. Immediately, I thought of my friends Brandon and John and their venture in becoming professional bakers. They agreed to collaborate with me by baking the cookies along with my initiation to the art of decorating them. We decorated the cookies they baked with colored icing, nonpareils and several types of brightly-colored sugars. The result of our combined creative efforts hang on the tree created from a tree branch painted white and glued at the tips with vintage paper leaves — all directing their attention with curve of the branch. I wanted the tree to match the ethereal and magical fairy-dust quality of Bear Maker Bakery cookies, along with the absolute exuberance and passion Brandon and John show in their baking efforts.

THEY TOO discovered baking in their respective childhood Easy-Bake Ovens, and they never forgot the power of a homemade confection. After they found each other, they ventured out on a limb together with a dream and a goal of making the most delicious cookies possible. While growing their passion for baking into a full-time creative endeavor, they jointly set out (even with separate childhood memories of providing treats for their families and friends) to create cookies "too beautiful to eat," but at the same time delicious enough to make resistance futile! It's not often that decorated cookies taste as good as they look. Labored over in their spare hours with love and care, their attention to flavor and texture along with a keen sense of visual detail has begun paying off. Like a fairy sighting, if you blink, their cookies might disappear. Even in reminding yourself of a growing waistline, if you are to truly enjoy any treat for what it is, both Brandon and John understand that sweetness and goodness in baking always shoot straight for the heart.

CHILDHOOD experimentation with Easy-Bake Ovens may have served as a starting point, but my friends at Bear Maker Bakery have gone way beyond those formative days to perfect their craft by coming up with unexpected ways to combine the right ingredients in making something that is beyond the ordinary. They haven't reached the point of quitting their day jobs either, so it is truly a labor of love [like The Decorated Tree (of life)]. All it takes is a loving tenacity of spirit to begin to realize the sweetest dreams.

TREE OF HEARTS | This Valentine cookie tree (above), made from a painted branch with handmade vintage paper leaves is decorated with cookies (above, right) made in collaboration with Bear Maker Bakery. The Valentine candy boxes by Johanna Parker and "Be Mine Cat Boy" original design spun cotton figure by Crystal Hanehan (left) are from Bayberry Cove (he was hand spun using techniques similar to those of the early German artisans who created cotton ornaments for Christmas). The German glass glitter lovebird ornaments perched in the branch are from Pottery Barn. The ceramic urn holding the branch is from Smith and Hawken. The cake plate from my collection is the Martha Stewart Limited Edition 2009 Cake Plate from Macy's. A cardboard heart box from Michaels is painted chartreuse and sits behind a silver-beaded pocket holding a heart love token (from Bombay Duck London) at the base of the tree. 

COOKIE COLLABORATION | (Right) Brandon Tidwell (top, left and middle) and John Price (top left, top right, and bottom left) from Bear Maker Bakery were gracious (and elfin) enough to put their hearts into cookies for the tree, along with giving me lessons on decorating them (that's me, bottom right, grinning with childlike glee).
 
©2010 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, collecting and styling by Darryl Moland, tree photographed by Harold Daniels Studio / assisted by Shawn May, cookie making collage photos by Darryl Moland and Brandon Tidwell

tree of dreams

THE HOLIDAYS are a time for family, no matter what form that concept may take—friends, partners, spouses, pets, siblings, sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, grandchildren . . . or some combination of all of the above. But it's our mother that brings us the most profound connection to nature by her very essence as bearer of new life. We are all a part of them as much as they are part of us. My mother richly infused my memories of the holiday by encouraging me each year to use my creativity in decorating our family tree. Since there were ten years between my next oldest brother Mal and I, there was enough room for me to do so. My brothers were both jocks and not really interested in such things anyway. And my sister had already found her own life. We all had a hand in it when I was younger, but after a point, it became my own canvas—to sometimes dismal effect (like the tree limited to an all-white color scheme with homemade paper doily fans, which looked quite funereal). My mother provided all the room she could have to let me experiment by allowing me to buy ornament kits and letting me use my imagination in configuring the tree with the ornaments we had and the new ones I created. I always took this challenge with great glee and was successful more times than not.

THIS TREE of silver and pink was inspired by a dream I had of her. Shortly after her death, I dreamt about her finding a Christmas present from me­—a pink and silver rhinestone brooch. Though she never received it physically, this tree is an offering to her spirit. It was as if, in order to celebrate her life, I was now charged to keep the flame of creativity she helped spark in me. Her mischievous exuberance is captured by the varied animals (a giraffe, birds, a Christmas spider, and even a mouse) combined with sparkly baubles, flowers, leaves and stars; all evoking the brilliance of the brooch gift I had for her in the dream. Friends tell me that this photograph looks like an altar, and it is, of sorts. Every tree should garner such a response. There should be a light within it, even if it isn't illuminated with actual lights. My coworker Dan told me the tree I put up at work this year didn't need lights because it had a sparkle all-it's-own.The light and magic of a well-decorated tree is evocative of the historical and natural context of our collective memories and should speak to that sense of wonder, whether directly personal or a homage to generational history.

MY PARENTS instilled in me this sense of wonder during the holiday. I carry this with me and am sharing it here—creating a testament to their spirit. Plenty of holiday trees I see each year have become overwrought with elements that have little meaning or relevance to the time-honored traditions of the decorated tree, but my intent is to bring it all back in focus, by giving historical context as to why certain decorations and themes are more richly relevant than others. It really all depends on what is important to you and your family of choice—the spirit of Christmas is ultimately for the kid in all of us—and it's easy to find a pure sense of self when you're decorating with something in mind to honor—not unlike an altar to your memories of the people with which you share or have shared your life.

INSPIRATION  for a tree can take many forms. I probably take that more seriously than most people do because I've continued to grow and nurture the seeds my mother planted in me years ago. All the trees I've created in my lifetime hold memories of places I've been, people I've known and people I cherish with associations I've made in my collecting wherever I go. And nature is the base source of this inspiration. You can find incredible color schemes within one seashell or the pinks and grays of a winter sky after a freshly-fallen snow. There's nothing more magical than towering evergreens covered in snow—the sparkle and texture found in such a scene is awe-inspiring in its unadorned simplicity—sweet dreams are made of this. Embellishing those dreams and making them into reality are the stuff of wonder and surprise. 

PRETTY IN PINK | My mother's "signature" color was pink, so this tree (above, right) serves her memory well (as well as my dream of my gift to her of a pink-and-silver brooch). The seemingly random mix of ornaments are tied together only by color and my interpretation of my mother's creative spirit. They all represent some aspect of her exuberant, sometimes loud, always unique and endearing personality. The ornaments are from my own private collection of antique ornaments and newer baubles—from sources far-and-wide: Target once had an incredible line of ornaments designed by Thomas O'Brien (the tree topper and silvery-blue ornaments), the pink and silver tinsel tree and mouse ornament are from the now defunct Martha by Mail catalog. This "altar" to her memory is flanked by two mercury glass candlesticks with flames softly framed by vintage-style bottle brush wreaths. 

MOTHER'S CHILDREN | That's me on the far left (above, left) looking off into the trees even then, at only three years old.The photo was taken on a 1964 summer vacation by my father: My brother Ronald stands ever-stoically in the background, my sister Donna pensively holds me safe, and my brother Mal stands smiling to the left of my mother—the best mother anyone could have—in her boldly-striped dress. Here we are a few years ago (left) in the same configuration sans our mother (made not long after both parents died in 2005). 

NATURAL MAGIC | This sepia-toned grouping of evergreen trees (above, right) covered in snow form an iconic and magical silhouette against a wintry sky—a sight rarely seen in the American South where I was reared. I haven't lived farther north than Atlanta, where I now reside. A significant snow is a rare occurrence in the winters here.

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED,

collecting and styling by Darryl Moland, 

photography (Top—Pretty in Pink) Claudia Lopez, 

(Above—Natural Magic) iStock Photo.com
 

free fall

Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart,
    and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems 
    good to me,
Speak the word that 
    sets me free.
                —William Morris  

F A L L   T R E E S  become a saturated blaze of earthy color after a spring and summer of growth. The first artwork I created that got any attention started with a crudely painted bare tree trunk and limbs, then daubed with red, green, brown and yellow leaves applied with bits of sponge dipped in tempera paint, which I'm recreating in the photo at right (except with glass leaf ornaments). I did this sponge painting in kindergarten and proudly brought it home to give to my mother. She considered it a "masterpiece" (as only a mother can do). She kept the tree painting folded neatly in her drawer for as long as I can remember and would pull it out occasionally to show to friends and relatives.

P A I N T I N G  was one of the first indications that I had an eye for arts and crafts. My mother keeping and cherishing that painting as she did let me know it was nothing ordinary. Her tucking it away for safekeeping like it was something precious probably had more to do with my becoming a visual artist than any raw talent I ever had. It gave me the confidence inherent in creating something and taught me to love expressing myself with the raw materials of color, texture and form. My eyes turned into visual sponges—like those bits of paint-soaked sponge that I used to create that fall tree. My interest in absorbing the visual beauty of my surroundings started right then and there.

M Y   K I N D E R G A R T E N  teacher was also our next-door-neighbor where I grew up, so school was an easier transition for me than a lot of kids. I always excelled in school because I loved the adventure of learning new things. I was one of the geeky popular kids—the good-grade set with social skills. My parents were both actively involved in my sibling's lives—as stretched out as they were (I came along ten years after my brother Mal). One or both of my parents was always nearby in all our extracurricular endeavors (the band for my sister and I, and the football team for my two brothers), so I was what they called one of the "good kids," probably only because I knew mother and daddy would promptly find out if I ever did anything wrong.

M O T H E R   A L W A Y S  let me take charge of decorating the Christmas tree each year, once I was old enough to do so, and it became a lifelong passion that has grown to obsessive proportions. That's why I'm doing this blog. I have a lot to share and have amassed an enormous array of decorations and ephemera with which to do it. I'm less than two years away from being fifty, so it seems like a natural progression during the autumn years of my life. It is also a means by which to collect my thoughts and ideas for a book called "The Decorated Tree" that I want to publish someday. And it's all about freeing this dream I've had for years and making it a reality.

W I L L I A M   M O R R I S, who wrote the short poem that begins this blog post was a leader in the Arts and Crafts movement begun in the late 19th century. The more I read about him (shown, left, at age 37), the more it seems my ideas about resolving craft with industrialization are in alignment. Today, that means retooling a new appreciation of things still well-made by industry by sorting through the mounds of schlock that is mass-marketed. Modern society, as Morris feared, has become all about being fast and cheap and has lost a lot of historical context in translation. He rejected the opulence of the Victorian era and urged a return to medieval traditions of design, craftsmanship and community. Aside from being a poet, an artist and a social reformer, he is probably most well-known for perfecting the use of woodblocks for printing the nature-inspired wallpaper and textiles he designed, many of which are still in use today in one form or another. His political writings were geared toward a push away from the dehumanizing effects of the Industrial Revolution and a longing for a society in which people could enjoy craftsmanship and simplicity of expression.

M Y   S I G H T S  are set less broadly than his (or maybe not), but in any account, that is exactly what I want to do with the holiday tree, which has all but become a meaningless decorative concoction without much reverence to the natural world and the history that created it. It hasn't always been that way. I believe that life ultimately finds its true meaning in nature and we must revere our history. And like a vibrant falling leaf, I hope to find good ground to nourish and tap into a time-honored wellspring of renewed ideas. 

MEMORY TREE | Almost 40 years later, I recreate that kindergarten tree painting (above, right), except, instead of daubs of paint sponged on for leaves, there are glass ornaments. The broad leaves are made by Department 56, the narrow ones are from Cost Plus World Market (past season). The tree is topped by an owl ornament from West Elm (past season). Surrounded by moss and real autumn leaves, the nut ornaments (atop the faux-finished memory box) symbolize rebirth: a glittered-glass walnut by Martha Stewart Everyday at Kmart, a walnut and a chestnut by Inge Glas (past seasons). 

KEEPSAKE MEMORIES| Here I am at about age 10 next to the Christmas tree at home (in 1971), accompanied by a handmade Christmas card painted for my parents with my school picture pasted on it (above, center) made around the same time. 

ARTIST AND CRAFTSMAN | William Morris (bottom, left), born in 1837, was directly inspired by the flora and fauna of the natural world and warned of the dehumanizing effect of the Industrial Revolution. He is known as the Father of the Arts and Crafts movement which got its start in the latter 1800's. Painting by George Frederic Watts, circa 1870. 

©2009 DARRYL MOLAND | ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, collecting, photography and styling by Darryl Moland. Painting of William Morris by George Frederic Watts.