The previous tenants left the candle holder hanging from a lemon tree. Husband thought about trashing it, but I thought the rusty iron had a certain wabi sabi quality, and it was still serviceable. I bought new votive glasses and and candles, lighting them Saturday evening, after we finished sprucing up the patio. It’s lovely back there.

Pared down to its barest essence, wabi-sabi is the Japanese art of finding beauty in imperfection and profundity in nature, of accepting the natural cycle of growth, decay, and death. It’s simple, slow, and uncluttered-and it reveres authenticity above all. Wabi-sabi is flea markets, not warehouse stores; aged wood, not Pergo; rice paper, not glass. It celebrates cracks and crevices and all the other marks that time, weather, and loving use leave behind. It reminds us that we are all but transient beings on this planet — that our bodies as well as the material world around us are in the process of returning to the dust from which we came. Through wabi-sabi, we learn to embrace liver spots, rust, and frayed edges, and the march of time they represent.

—Chado, the Way of Tea