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!
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!
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.
We spent one rainy morning this weekend making patterns on paper. My mom sent a stack of "texture plates" from the craft store awhile back, and the kids and I got them out to see what we could do. They worked great for making these paper eggs, and our block Stockmar crayons made beautiful soft colors over the textures. My daughter and I each cut out free-hand egg shapes (hers are in the middle photo) with our papers.
Now what do we do with them? Perhaps use them for cards (yes, we still have to make our Easter cards), or perhaps put two together with a string in between and hang them up. Any other ideas?
This little project has been one of my most popular crafts for young children: it has been featured on craft blogs around the world, including mammafelice, Craft Gossip, and The Crafty Crow.
The baskets are colorful, cheerful and easy for kids to make.
For variety, have your kids paint the baskets with acrylics and add glitter while the paint is wet.
You can find the tutorial here. Happy Spring!
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.
These squares are gardens, glass, sea, grass; they are books, maps, treasure, dross. Time not here. Things I don't have. Talent I've lost. Letters I can't grasp.
Just letting you know, in my own puzzling way, that I'm still here. Slowed down by health and weather but hoping to have more things to share this week.
It's March: all things are possible as spring soon returns.
I've talked about her before. You remember, perhaps, the rose petal beads, the summer dresses sewed in calico, the homemade root beer. Maybe you don't remember the paper collage valentines or famous hobo bread, but I do. You must remember the quince tree, and the quince jelly. And of course, all the ephemera of a century gone: bookmarks, postcards, needle books, brittle photographs. Having survived the depression and the wars, she saved everything.
She still does. But now my grandmother lives in a small apartment, and I have received many of her beautiful vintage things. She sent me a nice stack of linen handkerchiefs. Knowing that I would never use them for the original purpose, and knowing my grandmother wouldn't mind if I re-purposed them, I used one to sew a little gift for her.
If it looks grandmotherly, well, it is, of course. A small sachet in rose-colored linen, filled with lavender, edged in ivory lace, backed in a tiny star-print cotton. I thought she might like a summery smell for her bureau. I am happy to have a small gift, from the heart, to send to her in two weeks. I'll be including some of the children's art in that package, and a collage valentine, too, just as she always sent to me.
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.
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.
