The magic of late summer is upon us. Harvest season is well underway and fresh food and herbs come through the door daily. The hand basket hangs by the door at the ready for the morning garden walk, for the quick run to the berry bushes, for the dinner greens, for the eggs in the coop, for the quick calendula harvest before the rain. As the season begins to turn, her home shifts to the dinner table, the counter - holding fruits and candles and other tokens of remembrance of a circle of seasons in which we emerge and feast and die. Baskets woven reciprocally with their mother plant bring a sense of knowing to our lives, a sense of something I intend to remember many times a day when I step light or heavy footed out into the marigolds and bee balm, small and ready basket in hand. This batch of hand baskets are woven primarily with wild Wisconsin willows, with touch of cultivated varieties from my friend Lee down the road.