s

Book-Bound

and trees in books

and trees in books
I grew up learning the cork oak trees. I witnessed their naked bark every nine years. Like cats with nine lives, the trees kept on giving. We kept on taking.

A Gift to Me

A Gift to Me
It was a bit broken from years of handling. A happy broken from being read and re-read. I was asked to mend it to continue to be cherished.

Words

Words
At times, commissioned work leaves me with extra words. Pages, sometimes chapters of them. Outdated contents in their original form, and yet at the root they still pack the same beauty, their singular power.

The Giving Season

The Giving Season
My final commission is now out there, part of this season of giving. I package journals with intention: a pressed fern between pages;  a meaningful word;  one of my photo note cards to match the overall feel of the gift.