About the woodland atelier
Woody Shoots is less a farm and more a quiet, living studio at the edge of a PNW woodland. Here, stems are not inventory. They are lines, textures, and stories—gathered slowly from five acres of trees, understory, and in-between places.
How Woody Shoots began
For thirty-five years, my work lived in fiber and copper—diagnosing, designing, and tending the invisible networks that carry other people’s voices. When that chapter closed, I went looking for a new kind of signal. Something slower. Something rooted.
The answer was not a production farm with neat rows and rigid recipes. It was the lightly wooded acres around our home near Arlington, WA—cedar, alder, salmonberry, and a tangle of bramble that had been waiting for someone with time, curiosity, and pruning shears.
Woody Shoots grew out of countless hours pulling blackberry roots by hand, watching how light moved through branches, and realizing that what I really wanted was to build a woodland atelier: a place where stems and designers could meet in a way that honored both the land and the work.
The woodland decides more than any spreadsheet ever could.
How I work inside the atelier
My approach is part grower, part designer’s scout, and part quiet observer. Before I ever cut for an order, I pay attention to how a stem inhabits space—its arc, weight, and the story it seems to tell.
There are a few questions I’m always asking:
- How will this stem move in a vase or installation when gravity, water, and time have their say?
- Does this plant have enough presence here in the woodland to share some of itself with a designer—and still thrive?
- What happens when dew, frost, or wind touches this foliage? Does it become more interesting, or more fragile?
- Is this material honest to the season and place, or am I asking it to be something it’s not?
Cuts are done in small batches, often for specific projects rather than generic inventory. Stems are cleaned and conditioned, but never overhandled—they should arrive in your studio still carrying a bit of the woodland with them.
What I believe about material and design
Woody Shoots exists because I believe certain things about stems, place, and the kind of beauty that lingers.
- Scarcity can be a strength
Limited quantities ask us to edit more thoughtfully. They invite negative space, restraint, and pieces that feel composed rather than crowded. - Place matters
PNW natives and woodland companions bring a different gravity to an arrangement. They tell the truth about where the work was made, especially in winter and early spring. - Material should collaborate, not fight
Branches, foliage, and understory that want to move in the same direction as your mechanics make for better, more stable work. I try to send stems that cooperate with your hand, not resist it. - Design deserves conversation
The most satisfying projects come from a back-and-forth—sharing photos, mood, and constraints—so the woodland and the designer are pulling toward the same piece of work.
Behind the name
“Woody Shoots” is a nod to the kind of material I love most: stems with structure that live somewhere between branch and bloom. The ones that hold installations together, carry line through a compote, or quietly shift how a viewer reads the piece.
“Alchemist of Backbone & Bloom” is a playful way of saying that my heart is with the supporting cast—the stems that make the leading flowers make sense. I’m drawn to the winter secrets, the understory, and the moments when scarcity forces innovation.
If you are a designer who feels at home in fog, lichen, moss, and the slower parts of the season, I suspect we may have good work to do together.
Thank you for considering letting this small woodland atelier become part of your practice.
— Diane