I love wood.
I love it when it’s still alive outside, and when it’s been shaped into good and useful things. I love the smell of sawdust. I love the sound a wooden instrument makes. I love stirring the porridge, the soup, or the bread dough with a wooden spoon. I love canoeing with a wooden paddle. I love sitting in a wooden chair at a wooden table. I love curling up in the papasan, which isn’t quite wood (rattan is a viney palm) , but looks as though it were. I love handing Robert and Jane their glasses of wine when they come over; Robert always chooses the old wooden rocking chair.
Wood is what I need.