On our drive home I shuddered at the thought of the way that everything I built when I was a child, fell to staves. I fastened things together with scrap twine and nails stolen from the barn, smokehouse or even the outhouse. The only thing I had ever made that stayed together was a box trap made from sticks and tension held it together. Not possible with a chair. The wheels in my mind were turning. A thought crossed my mind that would haunt me and force me, after several days, to give it a try. I decided to try my hand at building twig furniture using dogwood net hoops like Dad used in fishing nets. I would put as much care into shaping the dogwood hoop, as he did. I'll learn the will of the dogwood. What if, instead of discarded pieces of scrap twine and stolen rusty nails from the outhouse to hold my furniture together, I predrilled holes in the dogwood twigs, filled them with modern carpenter's glue and countersunk a wood screw into the hole? Another haunting thought flooded my mind: Is it dogwood or is it not?