I guess it's that form-meets-function kind of thing, but that label makes instinct seem so...calculated. Decorated. I guess I just like what I like and, if I'm going to bring it into my space, it's got to earn its keep--that's true beauty.
The stellar thing about this life philosophy is that I don't really covet things anymore. Of course, there's stuff I want--a scrappy bit of land that I could throw a yurt or a log cabin (or a shack, at this point--heck, I ain't picky) up on, for one, but my head isn't turned by things I could wear or carry or stuff into drawers.
The most beautiful gift anyone could give me this holiday season would be an old, patched pair of muck boots that has seen one too many farm winters. Those I could truly use and, man, wouldn't that just be the most gorgeous gift ever to grace the underside of a dressed-up tree?