"All through autumn we hear a double voice:
one says everything is ripe;
the other says everything is dying.
The paradox is exquisite."
Gretel Ehrlich, The Solace of Open Spaces
I think leaves are the most evident and beautiful example of this paradox.
Several days ago, I received an email encouraging a mention of the Andrew Goldsworthy page. I love Goldsworthy's work that leaves both permanent and transient images on the landscape.
Below are more of Andrew Goldsworthy's images of leaves.
|source: visual melt|
|source: visual melt|
His stone wall is a more permanent work.
|source: euniyah instagramof Goldsworthy stone wall|
I chose pics with leaves
because my latest project is leaf stitching.
stitched, rolled, and fastened.
Recently finished, but not yet reviewed because they will not be published until next year.
I See You by Claire MacIntosh
The Fifth Petal by Brunonia Barry
Swiss Vendetta by Tracee de Hahn
Blood and Bone by Valentina Giambanco
I am still enjoying decorating envelopes and sending and receiving letters. I found this wonderful post at Little Scraps of Magic by Paula Bogan about exchanging memories with her sister.
Just an excerpt from the post Do You Remember after Paula received a postcard from her sister:
Denise wrote, " Do you remember peeking inside the trunk of the cherry tree near the kitchen? A mama bird would build a nest in a hollow spot in the tree trunk each year. We would wait for her to fly away and then run to steal a peek of her babies."
What a great idea to exchange memories on a regular basis! Years and years ago, I asked my father and his siblings to send me a Christmas memory from their childhoods. We read these at the family Christmas celebration that year--the results were hilarious and not all associated with Christmas. But it was a one time thing. I wish I'd thought to continue asking for memories, especially now that that generation is gone.
As older generations submit to dementia and death, so many stories are lost. Copies of those original letters are now in the hands of my brothers and all of our cousins and in the hands of our children as well. What if I'd thought to continue writing and asking for memories...?