I sometimes tell Maria that she should be careful with the Fiber Chair, keep it in the barn in winter, perhaps even inside the farmhouse. I tell her it might be in a museum someday, archeologists of the future wondering just what it is and what it was used for. It is getting pretty  beautiful – she says it is an old oak chair, not a rattan as I have written.

Maria laughs at me, she says part of the magic of the Fiber Chair is that it lives, as baling wire does, out in the elements to fade and weather. That authenticity gives the chair it’s character, she says, she agreed to put it under the partial cover of the roof, but not inside. Yesterday it snowed, and I came outside and thought to brush the snow off of the Fiber Chair, but thought better of it and let it alone.