Teddy-Ricky had one very important job. For 24-hours at a time, three days a month, he sat deep below society, in a government bunker, watching an empty radar screen for incoming nuclear weapons. His desk had three things: His radar screen, a red folder of instructions for if he ever saw a blip, and a twin-tube tungsten-filament desk lamp. Most days were uneventful. But the dimmer knob sure was fun to play with.
There were a couple of clues that Hatchett was nearby. The wood looked freshly chopped, and his tractor was still warm.
Raplhie was the schoolmate who always seemed to be melting Crayola’s on the classroom radiator. He was one of the nicest kids in the class. As his evergreen and navy crayons slowly melted, the intercom kindly asked— “Ralphie, please come to the Principal’s office, and bring your things.”
Raised on a farm as the oldest of six sisters, Mae wound up with the perfect blend of roughness and warmth. And if you take the time to study her, you might begin to wonder if someone who’s been around this long has a few important things to share. She’s a relic from before our time, but she’s still at her happiest when she’s lighting up a room.
Some things are better in pairs— A-sides and B-sides, Lennon & McCartney, and now, the desk lamp or nite-lite combo of Alvarez. In a left & right-hand pair, you’ve got one for each side of the bed, ensuring that no matter which side you wake up on, it’s the good one. Sporting a shiny gold crown up top, they’re not just desk lamps, they’re an always-ready mirror for the speedy selfie-check-up.
As he springs from the potting shed, Willie’s triumphant arms reach skyward. To the neighbors, his frenzy probably seems to evoke chaos of tangled summertime hoses. But according to himself… Willie don’t care—the neighbors can think what they want. He’s got bigger things on his mind, like those hoses that need a’coiling.
A barn in Snohomish, WA was demolished to make way for new power lines, and Big A & Big B were born.
From the same family tree as Big A & B, when these twins were born folks’ didn’t think much of ’em—just small cut-offs, probably waste. But despite being called scrappy when they were younger, for the most part those kinds of comments didn’t ever bother them. Turns out, being scrappy is still a heckuva’ lot better than the fireplace.
Warm sand and tilandsia evoke visions of beaches. Not to shabby.
This thing smells like the ocean… The salty, industrial ocean.
Annalee holds a six-foot golden lasso cord as she stands atop a pile of retired porch planks… Her Water Tower Red dimmer switch ignites a gentle campfire glow, revealing a midnight grove of cacti amid a cozy pebble desert. As daylight fades, she’s conquered the Wild West and captivated your dreams.
None of us really remember when Hank showed up, or where he came from. But he carries a fire-engine dimmer knob and fort-knox cord, so it seems to us that Hank is the real deal. With a soaring tilandsia, embedded hardware and dimmable spiral globe, this is one’s a favorite.
California’s badass—rockin’ since the eighties.
Classy, clean, complete— “Sita” is hewn from naturally beautiful Cedar recovered from a Seattle neighborhood. The focus of Sita’s attention is a tossup between a tasteful tillandsia and the fully-dimmable 30-watt tube lamp. Fortunately Sita doesn’t force you to choose favorites. She even ended up doing a photo shoot for the Sasquatch! Festival once in one of those “right place, right time” sorts of things.