For a long time, I had a small basket made of pine needles. It was a souvenir from a 1960s Girl Scout field trip to an American Indian reservation that was secluded within a Louisiana forest of very tall pines. (The tribe may have been the Chitimacha.) The basket was coiled, using tightly bundled needles, so tidy and airtight that it gave me great pleasure to handle and look at. It was very light of weight and yet firm and sturdy, the surface even and textured by the edges of the brown needles. For years after, I'd pick up handsful of dried out pine needles from the yard, and toy with making something, but my attempts fell apart. Each needle is so fragile, they break easily, and yet bundled, they are so strong. I admire the knowledge and skill that went into objects that were useful, made of natural, local material, and so very beautiful.