seeing stars

Spider? starfish? fireworks? roots? neuron dendrites? a map of the internet? turns out all sort s of things in nature, and man-made, use radial symmetry*. I dragged this image into Google image search, and it came back with a whole host of similar images. This photo is a collection the dried umbels from wild parsnip flowers. This subject is begging for some sharp shadows to show the dimensionality of these stars. Alas, the gray blanket of clouds that has been helping to keep our fair city unseasonably warm, denied me the opportunity for shadows today. Needless to say, you will see this image again soon in all it’s three dimensional glory. As soon as the sun comes out.

* P.S. For my fellow weirdos out there, the Wiki page on “symmetry in biology” which discussed the evolution of symmetry in nature was a good read :-)

dried wild parsnip umbels

and the winner for best leaf shape goes to….monstera

I am a plant lover, and I rarely ever let plants die. So, often, plants in my home outgrow the size of my home. My house is not big, and we make use of all the spaces it has to offer (STILL taking up more than its fair share of space at this point). About a year ago, my monstera plant grew too big for my house. There was no longer a single corner, nook, or window under which i could tuck the plants. so, iI put the plant outside for the summer, where it thrived and doubled in size like a rising boule of sourdough. Before I could find a proper home for it, we had an overnight frost and all the leaves turned brown. The colors of these frost-nipped monstera leaves caught my attention, so I placed them on top of the piano for their future moment in the STILL spotlight. Rich in color, interesting in form and texture–they have all the attributes of  a treasured STILL subject.

dried monstera leaves

back to the usual programming

I just finished reading  A Journal of Solitude by May Sarton. It was published in 1973. But it still holds up today. It is not a book I would recommend to everyone. But I really enjoyed reading it, and think many of you may too. It was written the year she turns 60. I too turn 60 this year (in May when my books comes out!). She spends the year, mostly solitary, at her home in Nelson, New Hampshire. May was a prickly person. She was prone to episodic rages and outburst that eventually alienated most of her close friends and associates. She was aware of her shortcomings, though she couldn’t control them. She was an avid gardener, a prolific writer, an ardent lover of animals, a keen observer of nature, and dedicated reader and life long learner. The journal lets us see into her rich inner life. An inner life that she absolutely needed to maintain equilibrium and to make sense of the word. She could only access that inner life though solitude and contemplation. So when the outside world crashed in on her, like a tsuanami wave, which it often did, the results were often explosive and damaging. It is not a voyeuristic book–we never witness the specifics of these damaging outburst, we only see her struggle with the fall out. But what I loved most about reading the journal, was May’s love of nature and animals. She wrote (and published ) 53 books–17 of them books of poetry. So when she is in communion with the natural world, which is almost daily, she is able to express it with the language of poet. If any of that sounds interesting, I recommend giving it a go.

a tsunami of dried nature bits

my heart bursts

Today, I reached the bottom of my inbox! It took all week. Unfortunately, I did not finish until after the sun had set. So, I am re-posting this image from a few years ago, obviously shot during autumn. It exemplifies best how I am feeling right now: my heart bursting with gratitude and exhilaration.

Empty inboxes is not the usual thing I talk about (let alone celebrate) here on STILL. Thank you for bearing with me as I get through this once-in-my-lifetime event of launching an art book with the world’s premier art publisher.

Much love, Mary Jo

this old dog needs new tricks

In the  12 years of doing STILL (yes, 12 years already!)  I have learned a lot of new skills. I have become a better photographer. I have become a better forager. I have learned a few things about composition, And I have learned a ton about the flora and fauna of my bioregion–so you could say, I have become a better naturalist. But I have not, by any measure, become a better manager of my email inbox. On Monday I sent out to everyone on my email list an announcement about my new book coming out on May 1. My email newsletter list has 4600 subscribers. As most of you know, I almost never use that list. The last time I used it was two years ago. So, you can image what happened to my email inbox when everyone got the announcement. A tsunami of congratulations, well wishes, and just-checking-ins. Buried in all of that was about a dozen requests from magazines and newspapers for press kits so they can feature the book in their various media outlets. Wowsa. I was not prepared. And as I tried to answer each request, it seemed to generate even more back-n-forth emails. As of today, I can officially say….I am buried. LOL. It is a very, very good problem to have. And had I been practicing email management for the past 12 years, I might even be having fun with it all. But alas, I have been developing my eye for seeing the world around. Not triaging emails. This old dog needs a new trick, apparently.

hydrangea florets in winter