I’ve been collecting these mementos—rocks, corals, pieces of driftwood, shells, and pinecones—for more than 25 years. When I touch their surfaces, I’m reminded of the power of memory and stories. Not just my own stories, but others’ stories, historical accounts, and even the untold stories I might never know. For example, the driftwood is from Hills Beach in Maine, near the home of my husband’s great-great-grandmother.

When I see these pieces, I recall the story of her journey to America from Ireland, traveling alone over the ocean as a young girl, carefully cradling a hawthorn seedling. She planted it near her eventual house, and a stately hawthorn tree stands there today.

All of these objects live in a box near my desk, where they inspire me with their perfect and imperfect forms and connections to larger ecosystems. They resonate with my belief that design is about finding the essence of a place. What makes it specific? And how can we inspire deep connections to it?

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