This box is named for Yuma, Arizona, where my son, daughter-in-law, oldest grandson, and only granddaughter live. It reflects the bright, dry beauty of the desert and the deep connection I feel to that place and my family in it. Its intense sun nearly year-round makes it one of the most productive agricultural regions in the U.S., growing much of the nation’s winter vegetables. The old Yuma Territorial Prison, which operated from 1876 to 1909, is a reminder of the region’s rough early days, when settlers, outlaws, and railroad builders were all carving out a future in the desert.
The front and back of the box are made from yellowheart. Often this wood is pure yellow, but this piece had added color. What some might see as a defect reminded me of Yuma’s desert, with hard dirt and baked sand standing in contrast to a bright yellow sky. No paint, just the wood doing the work.
The cherry sides add depth and definition. They stand like the surrounding hills and frame the desert scene.
Inside, protected from the sun, is a curly maple bottom. It’s hidden unless you look for it. Cool and figured, like the quiet joy of stepping into an air-conditioned house in what is often the hottest city in the country.
The lid flips up and rests in a groove. A carved sun sits at the center, radiating outward: a nod to the central player in Yuma, responsible for both the heat and the crops that grow beneath it.
"Yuma" isn’t just a name. It’s a place, a family, and a feeling, all held together in this small box.
Little Boxes Series, #12
This box is named for Yuma, Arizona, where my son, daughter-in-law, oldest grandson, and only granddaughter live. It reflects the bright, dry beauty of the desert and the deep connection I feel to that place and my family in it. Its intense sun nearly year-round makes it one of the most productive agricultural regions in the U.S., growing much of the nation’s winter vegetables. The old Yuma Territorial Prison, which operated from 1876 to 1909, is a reminder of the region’s rough early days, when settlers, outlaws, and railroad builders were all carving out a future in the desert.
The front and back of the box are made from yellowheart. Often this wood is pure yellow, but this piece had added color. What some might see as a defect reminded me of Yuma’s desert, with hard dirt and baked sand standing in contrast to a bright yellow sky. No paint, just the wood doing the work.
The cherry sides add depth and definition. They stand like the surrounding hills and frame the desert scene.
Inside, protected from the sun, is a curly maple bottom. It’s hidden unless you look for it. Cool and figured, like the quiet joy of stepping into an air-conditioned house in what is often the hottest city in the country.
The lid flips up and rests in a groove. A carved sun sits at the center, radiating outward: a nod to the central player in Yuma, responsible for both the heat and the crops that grow beneath it.
"Yuma" isn’t just a name. It’s a place, a family, and a feeling, all held together in this small box.
Little Boxes Series, #12
