it starts

last week i watched a squirrel busily and somewhat anxiously scoop up double handfuls of dry dead  leaves and stuff them into his or her mouth before scampering off.  it was the first explicit act of nestbuilding i’ve witnessed this spring and it felt like the start of of something. there are now robins in the woods, juncos scritching in the grass, and goldfinches at the feeders. all thinking about building homes and settling in to raise some kids, with a certain amount of social distancing.

goldfinch nest

and it burns burns burns

the ring of fire . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   the ring of fire.

dried rose petals

a new (old) studio assistant

my daughter, a college senior, is home from california for spring quarter. she is by far the best studio assistant i have ever had.  so, although the circumstances are unfortunate, i am thrilled to have her back for a few months. today, i just sort of laid out these fern spore fronds on some white paper and then went and read a book. eventually she walked by, stopped, and started to play with them. this is what she created before resuming her walk to the kitchen. ok. thanks for being my daughter, eva.

sensitive fern spore fronds (Onoclea sensibilis L.)

feathers and down

mostly i want to lay my head on this airy smokebush pillow, except for those few sharp quills that i just know are going to poke up through the pillowcase into my cheek.

smoketree detail (Cotinus)

nor’ norwest

i have two boys who have dreams of alaska this year. they are watching the progression of coronoavirus with one eye, and with the other eye, they are glancing in a nor- norwesterly direction, with thoughts of uncomfortable camp mattresses, dolly varden, grizzly bears, and lots and lots of body odor in the cab of a truck. i will very happily stay home.

cut anthurium leaf