Tod built things from wood.  He built tables and chairs and dish drains. He built workbenches and couches and boxes. He built a box to hold cheesecakes for our friend Shirley, who was renowned for her scrumptious dessert creations. If he needed a toolbox, he built one. He once made a tackle box that he lent to me for a trip to Whistler. The tackle box was stolen from the back of our van, something Amy and I didn’t realize until we got home. A few months later, the police in Chilliwack called to say they had found a box with his fishing license in it. So he got the box back, tackle and all.

Tod also made, for want of a better word, objects. They served no utilitarian purpose, but somehow managed to meld his love of words and ideas with his love for wood. They also displayed a sense of whimsy that captured his sense of the world. They were not polished or “commercial” [I don’t think you could even call them “folk art”] and I don’t think he ever sold any. I don’t know that he even tried. Never-the-less, these objects say as much about him as his stories do. These photos were taken at his place in Nelson two weeks after his death.