NORTHAMPTON — In the shade of the trees, hands carefully and skillfully weave willow branches and other plant materials into elaborate configurations. Twine woven from corn husks and daylily leaves add a pop of texture to a basket, or hold together the points of a decorative star.

In a matter of hours, strips of birch bark might become a purse or a pair of shoes, and twisting wintercreeper vines and pine needles from the forest floor are repurposed as sturdy, flexible material for new creations.

It all happens in Gail Gaustad’s back yard, where she and a group of friends meet each week to learn and create together, using raw materials that they harvest and prepare themselves from the woods on Gaustad’s property and elsewhere. In the fall, the small group of women harvests the willow branches that they will use to weave when they meet every Tuesday in the spring and summer. In the colder months, they craft brooms using branches and corn husks, and decorative wreaths using a variety of materials.

Traversing the steep, rocky path down to a clearing behind her yard on a recent Tuesday, Gaustad pointed out a collection of spindly willow trees that reach up from the ground just past a patch of broomcorn. The space is an oasis for the plants, and the weavers that use their material for their creations, even when the nearby Mill River inundates it.

“This area floods two to three times a year now,” Gaustad explained during the afternoon basket weaving meet-ups. Flooding for many in the Pioneer Valley has meant devastating damage, but for Gaustad it means a healthier harvest come November because “the willow loves it.”

The trees that stand there now are almost unrecognizable as the twigs from Germany that Gaustad ordered online in 2006 and stuck in the dirt. Much like the weaving group itself, those twigs have grown into something much more over the years. What started as a mild interest and the occasional class in crafting baskets shared among friends eventually became, largely through word of mouth, a hub for sharing knowledge, ideas, resources and food.

Some members of the group even arrive toting photos of baskets that saw in museums on recent trips, which they compare their own work to, or use as inspiration for new patterns. When Christine Sass, 73, sees ancient baskets on display like that, she becomes overwhelmed with the feeling that, through basket weaving, she is “part of something larger.”

“I was so excited about the idea of it being such an ancient craft,” said Sass. “It’s a community thing, too. We have interesting conversations and we’ve known each other for a number of years now.”

Socialize in tranquility

Many of the women met one another through their volunteer work at the Smith Botanic Gardens, where Gaustad and others had already become friends and were excited for an additional opportunity to get together. Word of the group quickly spread to close friends, neighbors and family members, attracting a dedicated group, most of whom are retired, to learn new skills and socialize in the tranquility of Gaustad’s back yard.

“We kept coming back because it resonated with us,” said Sass. “It’s been fun to see the whole process grow, along with our understanding.”

While Gaustad and some of the other weavers have attended a few basket weaving classes, the group is largely self-taught. Gaustad learned her craft largely by reading books, which she makes available at each meet-up. Now, each gathering is a constant exchange of advice, reading materials, and interesting patterns and photos that group members find during their travels or online.

“I think of myself as the facilitator, not the teacher,” said Gaustad. “I have books, I have space and I have enthusiastic friends.”

Connie Parks, one of the longest-standing members of the group, often gets experimental with her natural creations, branching out of the basket-weaving realm into art pieces like a decorative star from branches and twine, or an almost life-sized sculpture of a manatee made of wicker. Soon, she hopes to craft a sea turtle sculpture as an homage to her late husband.

“One of the things I love about the baskets is we’re in a way artists, but every single atom of our art comes from our atmosphere,” said Parks. “It’s this repetition of tedious tasks that yields spectacular results.”

Lengthy process

The process is certainly long, and may seem tedious to a beginner or outsider. Branches and other materials must be kept pliable, which means making sure they’re damp enough to bend without snapping. The group soaks their willow branches about a week ahead of using them, and the day before use, the branches are “mellowed,” meaning kept moist in a damp towel or other medium.

As for the weaving itself, Parks said that creating about 5 feet of twine can take hours, and Sass stated that a willow basket can take a whole day to make “if you’re good,” while a pine needle basket “could take weeks.”

But the results are intricate, sturdy and practical in their many uses. Many members of the group have baskets, containers and handmade decorations in almost every corner of their houses, and they often give extra creations away as deeply personal gifts. Even when the group begins setting the table for lunch during their gatherings, the baskets can be seen in action carrying heaps of fresh produce.

For Edie King, creating items from nature’s supplies also presents the opportunity for friendly competition. For the past few years, she has submitted her birch bark creations to local fairs, and has brought back a handful of ribbons to show for it.

King said she never quite took to weaving with willow the way some of her friends did — she loved to create but didn’t feel connected to that particular medium. One night during the COVID-19 pandemic, she recalls waking up and thinking “I want to work with birch bark,” while simultaneously “knowing nothing about working with birch bark.”

The group was still meeting, since outdoor basket weaving offered an easy way to gather while socially distancing, so she took her new idea to the next session and got to work.

“You could call it a ‘pandemic moment,’” she said.

But she quickly fell in love with the birch bark medium, and became more experimental with her creations. Outside of baskets, she has also created purses, a berry picking satchel, containers with hand-carved lids, decorative canoes and more. Currently, she is trying her hand at crafting a pair of shoes from the versatile material.

Though she no longer dedicates her time to working with willow, the weaving group still gives her a space to explore her creativity, gain inspiration and have meaningful conversations with her friends. When those working with willow have to shave off the bark of a branch to make it thin enough to work with, they know they can send it her way and she’ll find a good use for it.

“Gail keeps us all busy — and out of trouble,” King joked.

All the group asks of its members is that they bring an open mind, a willingness to learn and a dish for their collective lunch. Members typically arrive around 11 a.m., but can stay as long as they’d like to make the progress they desire on their project. Gaustad provides bins of books, printouts, and old projects that members new and old can use as examples when bettering their own work.

When Gaustad looks back at the first few basket weaving classes she attended with Sass, she can’t help but notice how far she and the others have come.

“We learned a lot, but it was very exasperating,” she said of one of those initial classes.

“We were beginners, but it wasn’t a beginner project,” Sass explained.

But now, Gaustad, Sass and the others are always looking for new ways to expand their craft, adding new textures, colors and concepts to their pieces by taking inspiration from every basket or work of art they come across, sometimes even making their own patterns from scratch.

“It makes you start looking at things and saying, ‘How did they make that?’” said Gaustad.

Alexa Lewis can be reached at alewis@gazettenet.com.