At the end of a long winding path, tucked between tall trees and flanked by quiet shrubs, stands Threethorn Hollow, a solitary little house in a story all its own.
Sculpted by hand and mounted on the back of a well-worn book, this piece invites the imagination to wander. The trees rise like sentinels, branches sheltering the soft-angled roof. The shrubs lean in, as if listening to the breeze. And the path, long, gentle, purposeful, draws your eye and your thoughts toward a place that feels both forgotten and waiting.
This sculpture is a moment of stillness in miniature. A memory that hasn’t happened yet. A place you may have visited in a dream, or read about once in the margin of a fairytale.
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