a scrapbook of sorts
Sort of the equivalent of an IG photo dump, minus all the distractions and paid ads around.
I’m moving slowly these days. Even this transmission, which I would have loved to send sooner, seems to be pushed to the back of my list over and over again.
It was a long winter, full of false ends and spring’s false starts. Full of rain and gloom, after all. Of strong wind gusts and evenings when our electric solar system declared it had had enough of us and left us in darkness. This year, winter felt lonely and heavy, in ways I’m not used to feeling. Maybe that’s what a long winter on the hills, with no social media to feel connected to others, does to you. It was odd.
But we came through the other side of it. To sun, and light, and endless flowers and bouquets on the kitchen table, and early mornings and evenings that are filled with the scents of jasmine flowers and orange blossoms. Gosh, I really was craving this season.
Today’s transmission will feel like a scrapbook of sorts, and maybe that’s because I haven’t written a post in a while. There are pictures in my roll (both digitally and analogically speaking!) that I would love to share with you, small projects, and a few reflections. Consider this the equivalent of an IG photo dump, minus all the distractions and paid ads around. I’ll be back to my usual programming of projects and theme-specific posts soon!
A quote from my journal I want to share with you:
Over time, sometimes it feels as if I’ve become more of an introvert. Meaning, ever since I left the city, and that social muscle (the one I was so used to using in day-to-day interactions, in cooking and serving folx at the anarchist canteen, at group gatherings…) isn’t as trained anymore — could this be a capacity one loses? And yet, since I’ve been here, in a place that has become HOME to me, I feel that I’ve changed my anthropocentric vision of what community is, and I’ve learnt to feel part of a group among non-human people: rooted, feathered, winged, four-legged…
~ Monday, February 19
I’m currently reading Walden, by Henry David Thoreau, for the first time (and gobsmacked I hadn’t read it before!), and recently came across a paragraph that was asking to be re-read, over and over, because of the similarities to this thought. Here’s part of it:
Yet I experienced sometimes that the most sweet and tender, the most innocent and encouraging society may be found in any natural object, even for the poor misanthrope and most melancholy man. There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of nature and has his senses still.
Maybe I understand what he means here.
Also, if you haven’t read Walden yet, this is my gentle nudge to find yourself a copy and spend some time with it. The part where he advocates for more investments in culture over shiny transportation infrastructure got me needing to check that this was indeed written in 1854 and wondering if it would be well-accepted if I took this to read out loud in a council meeting as we protest over the plan for the highway that would cross our valley. But I digress…
I made some small things for small people this late winter, and this is one of my favorites. It’s the Toadstool Doll & Leaf Set pattern, and it’s a great stash buster!
The birdhouse we made (I’ve shared a detailed tutorial to building one in my book!) and put up every year housed a new family of great tits. This year, we decided to hang it right in front of the kitchen window, which was such a good decision. These birds become kin to us, in a way, and it’s hard not to get emotional as the little ones leave the nest on wobbly flights and bid farewell to the family. This time, I wrote a timeline of their cycle, so let me nerd out here, as I’m sure there are a few of you who love feathered people as much as I do.
19 Feb: start making their nest
26 March: babies hatch!
19 April: fledglings leave the nest (they had six this year!)
Two months! We jokingly call the birdhouse our bird factory.
Gardening season is starting! I’m growing a bunch of new herbs this year, but more to come on that in a future post...
The garden looks vibrant and happy to be alive, and I think it too was missing spring.
And, more recently, lilacs are blooming and I made a small batch of lilac-infused honey and lilac syrup. I took the following photos for the Herbal Academy, and they fill me with such joy I wanted to include them here.
Last but not least, a folk, pre-christian tradition we’ve been traveling to attend for the last two years, and this time I captured some of it in film. I’m enjoying using my film camera more these days and getting in the habit of not bringing the digital one with me as I go to places. This simple practice is teaching me to get intentional about the number of images I create once again and to be content with having less images, knowing they are enough, and just enjoy the moment. I know, pfff, it sounds corny.
If you’ve read it this far, thank you for welcoming me to your inbox even when my inspiration to create runs low. I appreciate you so much for being here!
May has some exciting things in store — I’ll be photographing my first wedding (say what!) and, shortly after, will be hopping by myself on a bus for a long, overnight ride to visit my dear friend Becky, and together we’ll hike in the Pyrenées for about a week. I’m feeling very excited about these two spring adventures!
Until next time, friends.
With jasmine and orange blossoms hanging in the air,
Cat