Quince and Quire

The Green Kingdom

Like many things on this earth, it looks best up close. The details spring to life. The greens reveal themselves.

 

And, as with so many things the seven-year-old likes to make, it was spontaneous. "Let's make a terrarium!" Before I could mention research, or necessary supplies, she was gathering up the potting soil and rummaging for an empty glass container. 

 

She uprooted her solo succulent; she collected mosses from our property; she pulled tiny cones from the nature shelf. She dumped in the dirt, and with gentle hands she patted in the plants. 

 

I know there are books that would tell us how we should have done a terrarium (we'll see how the various plants adapt to their new home). I know there are colored stones and glittering sand that we could have purchased. I know that we could have tried to make a more dynamic arrangement. But why? Why not embrace what we have, and see what it will become?

The world, in miniature. The forest, cupped in her hands. The magic of making beauty: of finding beauty in small places.

Unoriginal--and happy about it

Does it get any better than snowshoeing into the sunset? I think not. We've been waiting so long for real snow outside . . .

 

. . . . that inside we were happy to be formulaic in our crafting. Sometimes the familiar is most fun. I do think it's time to do more snowflake photography!

Links

Here's a list of links, eclectic in outlook and varied in purpose--and in no particular order. Hope you enjoy! 

 

I loved this post on wonder.

And, if you, like so many of us, feel overwhelmed by all the stuff that arrived with the holidays, here's a nice post on "de-owning." 

Speaking of material things, there are so many chic houses here--and lovely photography--but it's hard to imagine myself living in them. 

I love the beauty and the ideas that went into creating this gorgeous piece of textile warmth!

These photos make me want to visit Copenhagen.

As always, this talented lady inspired me with her creative re-use of materials and her lovely aesthetic. She and Ariadne have wonderful photos of their Epiphany celebrations as well. 

I love following the progress at this incredible school in the Atlas mountains. 

The Artful Parent has a series of excellent guest posts this month; the one on painting with light is intriguing.

I hope she continues to take too many pictures of the sky, don't you? When was the last time you looked at the sky without telephone wires, a screen, or a windshield in front of you? Do it now!

Calm & bright

Little light

Still here

Things haven't changed all that much since June . . . but thank you to everyone who has so kindly asked after me. I had to choose between mothering and blogging these past few months, and as you can tell I focused on parenting. I do hope to be back in this space more in the coming months, even if it's just to share a few photos. We'll see!

But in the meantime, look at that last photo! I finished a (very small) quilt for a (very small and much beloved) person. One thing crossed off the list!

The small picture

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the big picture? You know, The Big Picture that is your life--and the myriad decisions and upheavals that go with it. 

I do. 

That usually means it's time to turn to the Small Picture, or in this case, pictures. Thank goodness for a good camera that sees the world better than my own eyes. Thank goodness for the natural beauty of our little corner of the world--and for color, shape, texture, design.

And for seasons: I welcome summer while being grateful for the reprieve that spring brought.

May views

What I saw . . .

. . . upon waking this morning. And you?

Purple & blue

It seemed for so long that spring was never coming to our little corner of the world, but at last, we have proof. Snow glories and crocuses! Tiny, fleeting--but bits of color amidst the brown bracken and downed leaves of autumn.

 

My daughter and I were inspired to make this purple lady to celebrate. (Don't let the photo fool you; she is a mere 2 inches tall.) I'm starting to think purple is an April color. Might be time to review the color book of the seasons . . . 

Color week: white

Transformation

I've been working with watercolors and feeling my lack of art school training. I had poetry training, and book arts training, but never basic mix-colors-and-materials training. So there were some creative failures this week with ideas about diagrams and plots and colors, which I will share with you when my ego is less challenged.

 

Instead, let's think about leaves. My daughter painted the leaves, not me, using watercolors and a few sprinkles of salt. We cut the leaves out together, quietly, sometimes quickly. As we worked I thought about why people are compelled to make things, to put paint on paper, to assemble, to create order. Do we actually create? Or are we arranging the things already given in this world? 

 

My daughter is deeply interested in the idea of Lent this year. We are not Catholic, but we are, shall we say, guests in a Catholic community. And it's a good place to be, with strong women, thoughtful children, and people deeply concerned about serving others: all things we like. Not every belief in this community fits our views, nor must it be so: we see it as an opportunity to talk about different ideas as we wrestle with our own sense of the divine. We are, after all, a family made up of a scientist and a writer and curious children: there are bound to be ontological debates.

 

And so we are keeping a form of Lent at our house. In our family, that means having more time for reflection; working on our ability to serve and help others; developing our spiritual knowledge by reading a variety of texts, from scripture to poetry to commentary; and being kind and patient with one another.

 

We made a calendar to mark the journey through Lent. It's not our idea. We found it through the Parenting Passageway, and it was an idea from this site. Each day we move our oh-so-elegant pipe-cleaner caterpillar to another leaf on the calendar, Eric Carle style. (I used the beloved push drill to make a hole in each leaf). At the end of the forty days we'll hang watercolor butterflies: a lovely metaphor from the natural world about what we are trying to do in our own life. 

 

This week, as I watch the stunning events unfold in Japan--a catastrophic example from the natural world that offers no room for metaphor, only empathy--our little leafy calendar feels like an exercise in fantasy. Yet I hope and, yes, pray that the terrible situation will get better, that there will be survival and renewal. It will not be a forty days' journey, but it will happen. There are many ways to help make that a reality. 

Artful things around the house

My daughter and I are obsessed with this puzzle. Do you see the fun we have with color and design? Available here.

Grandpa sent these chalkboard for the kids. You are seeing them in a clean moment; usually they are covered in cake recipes & names for imaginary dogs. 

 

I found this book at my local independent used & rare bookseller. So great! Lots of photos, good synopses, great for non-homeschoolers who still do lots of teaching and exploration at home (that would be most of us, yes?) 

 

My daughter made this ceramic hand for us at school. I am in love with it. It sits next to all my little tiny hand-bound books: reminders of where I've been and what I've got now. And its beauty makes me think of all the not-beautiful ceramics I made as a child, which my parents always displayed and used. 

 

I don't know where I got this book: I think it arrived by osmosis: I really like it. (You can find it here, though.) Author Heather Smith Jones provides a nice overview of tools, materials and techniques for the non-art school person who wants to make art. Many inspiring photos, interesting projects, guest artists, and so forth. I have so many ideas now! I just need a little time alone.

 

Time: look at my beautiful calendar from Pat. I am really enjoying this one, and it is a lovely way to keep track of the days. I am so pleased to report that two months into the new year I am holding steady to my resolution to rise before the rest of the family, all seven days of the week, to be starting my work before they are awake. Sometimes that means I am reading at 5 in the morning; sometimes I am doing dishes and laundry; sometimes I am sitting at the computer (like now), though I am trying to limit my own screen time. 

 
If you remember this project you will enjoy seeing what Mona has done with hers. So lovely! My February is in the middle. 

Happy news from a local friend: see Maya's blog! Here's to more art and words in the world!

 

Photographing snow crystals, part two

My third day of photographing snow crystals was so very different from the first two: I understood then how much temperature matters. It was so much easier to find and photograph the snowflakes when temperatures were closer to 30 degrees, as opposed to 10 degrees. I could hardly keep up with the beauty and multitude of each crystal! The first two photos are of snowflakes on a piece of plexiglass; the third is on my blue paper.

Here are a few books we have been enjoying during this snowy project.

The Story of Snow

Snowflake Bentley

Snow Crystals

The Snowflake

Photographing snow crystals

With our most recent snowstorm abating, but flakes still falling, I wanted to capture images of snow crystals. (Snowflakes are clusters of individual snow crystals.) I really needed my tripod but couldn't find it, and so these photos are the best an amateur like me could do with a macro lens and no tripod. I am no Snowflake Bentley, and that's okay.

I put a few sheets of dark blue and black paper outside for about 20 minutes (the crystals will melt otherwise) before I attempted to take photographs. The fibers in the paper look huge under the macro lens, almost like I was taking pictures of snowflakes on a shag rug. Next time, I would try taking photographs using a piece of plexiglass as a substrate.

I learned many things doing this, and I'll list them for you in no particular order in case you want to try taking similar photos.

1. Choose a smooth-grained dark piece of paper (or clear plexi) on which to capture the snow crystals. Let it sit outside awhile so that the crystals don't melt on it. 

2. Use a tripod and a macro lens.

3. Consider using manual focus over auto focus. My husband looked at my photos and said they would have turned out better with manual focus. However, I have poor eyesight and could hardly see the nearly-microscopic bits of snow, let alone determine whether I had them in focus, so I continued with the auto focus option.

4. Watch out for wind. Be patient, but act quickly when you spot a beautiful crystal. They often melt upon landing, or get an arm broken when another crystal lands on top.

5. Try taking photographs at intervals throughout the day. I noticed that the size and quality of the snow crystals changed as the day went on. Larger snowflakes were obviously easier to see and photograph.

My results are not spectacular; clearly I am no professional. (I increased the contrast in the photographs to make it easier to see the crystals.) The kids and I were thrilled nonetheless. It was magical to see these gorgeous bits of nature up close. 

This is one time where I would urge you to click on each photo to see it larger. 

Tomorrow I'll share some books we've enjoyed about snowflakes, including those that inspired me to attempt to photograph the crystals.