Cleaning my desk last week, I fished out a business card and frowned.
“Sheri’s Bird Houses and Yard Art.”
The only birdhouse I’d ever owned was a cuckoo clock, which my parents made me keep in my room. That was one smart cuckoo. It was forever punctuating our conversations, destroying heated arguments and dutifully waking the household every midnight. To my remorse, it died a suspicious and early death.
But a lady selling birdhouses?
Of course! It was last September, the close of my three-day garage sale when I noticed this woman standing in front of a 7-foot metal cabinet donated by a neighbor, who marked it $50. I could tell the woman really wanted it — not with avarice but longing. Curious, I hurried over.
“It’s perfect, but I can’t afford it,” she said with a sigh.
Perfect? It had dents, scrapes and rust at the bottom. Its fate was the donation truck.
“Ten.”
She blinked in disbelief and scrambled for her wallet, voicing a torrent of thank-yous.
“How are you going to get it in that compact hatchback?”
“It’ll fit,” she insisted, and it slid into place with centimeters to spare.
“What are you going to do with it?”
“Store my supplies. I sell birdhouses.” She stuffed a card in my hand.
“You live on Magnolia?” I studied the metal monster hanging out the back of her car.
“I was raised here. Went to Lawton and Blaine Jr. High,” she called as she started the engine.
I wanted to know more about this neighbor. She had spunk, gumption — and birdhouses.
A growing hobby
We settled on the Serendipity lounge for a talk. It turned out that Sheri Folz and I probably passed each other in the halls of Blaine Jr. High hundreds of times: same age, same class, but neither of us remembered. At that age, you’re too busy worrying about that zit blinking between your eyebrows.
Folz remained in Magnolia until 1966, when she left for sunnier climes, but Magnolia has a way of drawing back her own, and Folz was no exception. She and her husband returned to Lawton and now live in the house her father built in 1955.
“So when did you start working on birdhouses?”
“I married, raised my children, worked, and then one day at a garage sale, I bought this tote of acrylic paints, over 30 shades. Why? I don’t know. I stored them in the garage. Then eight months later, I noticed the two gnome figurines in our garden looked shabby — that was the start. For years, I’d had visions of doing yard art, but after I brought those figurines to life, I was hooked,” she explained.
“I started collecting bits and pieces at garage sales and haunting the thrift shops. I’d clean, paint and decorate old birdhouses. I collected costume jewelry and hunted outdoors for different kinds and colors of moss, wood and pebbles. Some houses I bought new and recreated in my own style,” she continued. “Slowly, I started adding planters, birdbaths, figures in metal, anything that caught my eye. Actually, I have a weakness for frogs.”
Finding talent, oneself
Since Folz returned to Seattle two years ago, she has been selling her new and eco-refinished yard art at the Fremont Sunday Market, spring through autumn.
“You have to be there by 6 and have your awning up by 9, but the other vendors are just great, always willing to help. I hope to be adding other locations this year,” she said.
As Folz described the differences between fundament and ornamental birdhouses, I sat watching her face transform from a tired day’s worries into shining enthusiasm.
“Wait till you see them. You know I’ve always called my business ‘Sheri’s Bird Houses,’ but I’m expanding my yard art all the time They make great hostess gifts, decorations for children’s rooms and, of course, homes for birds. People visiting my booth say, ‘They’re so cute.’ It’s a good feeling.
“It’s not much of a money-making scheme. I work hard every day, a full agenda of cleaning houses for resale, renewing neglected gardens and caretaking the elderly, especially those who are ready to pass from this world.”
Did I say the lady had spunk?
“I’m proud of my work, but the birdhouses, they’re different. After years of just living, I found my talent. I found myself.”
Yes, that would be it. The one thing that gives you so much joy, that it tells you who you are. It differentiates you. It’s your signature.
“I love it.” She smiled. “I never had a passion in my life until I found my garden art. It keeps me going, keeps my mind off all the things that go wrong.”
How many of us have found that singular expression in life that defines us, that stays to warm us through the inevitable distresses of the passing years? Perhaps like Folz, we should let our intuition lead us to our talent, our individual passion.
D.J. DOEPKEN is a longtime Magnolia resident. To comment on this column, write to QAMagNews@nwlink.com.