crackling embers

i pressed these autumn ferns assuming i would find brittle brown fans when i opened up the press again.. but their autumn fire was still smoldering.

pressed autumn ferns

youth

these flowers only appear old if you count the first part of their lives. they have barely entered the infancy of their dried afterlife.

dried summer flowers

surprising and inevitable

there’s a little flower market that started here in the twin cities a few years ago. it’s called the twin cities flower exchange. it’s one of those places, where as soon as someone does it, it is so obviously a good idea that you smack your head and say to yourself ‘why hasn’t that always existed.’ the place, a corner of a cooperative warehouse, sells only locally grown flowers in season. in minnesota that means tulips and lilac for two weeks in may. peonies for three weeks in june. and dahlias for three weeks in september. because our growing season is so short and abundant, the gals behind the operation have extended their retail offering by making dried flowers and stems available in the off months. it’s brilliant. 100% local. each item dried at the peak of its  expression. color all year round! obvious, right? so why did it take until now for someone to do it?

dried pink peonies

preserved sunshine

these ferns look just like the golden light of late october, which is exactly when i picked them, then stuck them under a stack of books in my bedroom. i would have forgotten about them entirely if their slender stems hadn’t been poking out from the stack and snagging dust bunnies.

october fern fronds (either interrupted fern or ostrich fern)

order and disorder

are you attracted to predictability, reliability, and ordered discipline? or do you prefer spontaneity, individuality, and creative chaos? or…are you like me? capable of both, attracted to both, and flip-flopping between the two like a pendulum with two minds?

alternate branching twig