Apothecary Rose

The connection between American publishing and the English houses that supported them were as clear as day to me, as a young apprentice at St. Martin's Press. Editors went on annual buying trips "across the pond" to partake in the comfy literary markets of murder mysteries and tearoom gardens that are so quintessentially British. Excepting for some technical difficulties present in the differences between printing processes, our repackaged series were the house staples we could all rely on. Murder mystery readers are overwhelmingly female, and surprisingly devoted to their fictional, crime-solving heroes; a pat, easy formula that's the perfect armchair read on a chilly autumn night, served with a warm cuppa on the side.

Until a certain female protagonist caught my attention. Because I produced the advance reader copies sent out to reviewers, I usually knew the manuscript well enough to talk about it, and because of the lulls in my work, I actually read most of them, too. We did a bunch of medieval murder mysteries that sought to capitalize on the commercial success of Umberto Eco's "The Name of the Rose". This one began similarly, but with a twist: the prime suspect was also the chief investigator. She was a female apothecary working as a laywoman within abbey walls, tending to the same medicinal garden that produced the deadly herbal used as the murder weapon, found on her shelves. Neat plot twist, right?

I was reminded of my own botanist mother who'd cried foul play over my child's bouquet, picked to cheer her up during one of her many "moods". "Agh!" She dramatically cried out when I presented my flowers to her, at her bedside. "That's 'deadly' nightshade!" Oh? Pretty purple flowers. "Are you trying to poison me?!" Uh, no...but, thanks for the tip. End scene, cut, aaannnd...fade out.

Aside from the theater of her daily undoing, I learned a lot about the power of plants from her. She often knew their Latin names by heart, and if we couldn't readily identify the wildflowers we found, we'd look them up. She knew the trees around us by the shape of their leaves, and the colors they changed in the fall. It was a beauty and magic to me that lengthened into homesickness for the forests of my northern woods. Never would I forget the shape of sunlight slanting through the trees, or the happy yellow of a early spring daffodil.

It's become grounding to me with every move I've made, a steadying process that keeps me down-to-earth in a sea of change; collecting specimens, looking them up, and then pressing them between the pages of books. That is the strength of our collective gifts as a mother and daughter: a knowledge that is straight and true. 
And so very beautiful.

http://www.catholicherald.co.uk/news/2017/09/14/england-to-be-re-dedicated-as-dowry-of-mary/

Mushroom Season

Nature takes care, with the help of the mighty ant (and many other things).

Once the humidity reaches a dew point above 75%, mushrooms pop up all around town, which is magical, beautiful, and very natural. 
A beautiful orange and white cap turned brown in a day, then became a feast for an opportunistic colony of ants. An enterprising army of them made a hanging home from a sturdy leaf of grass for their harvest, creating a short commute to their job site, similar to my life here in the Hudson Valley. 

A sticky colony of ants, in a few blades of grass.

I don't particularly like dampness (if I did, I'd live in a rainforest), but the fecundity of this area is necessary to maintain its' astonishing biodiversity. I'll get by, and so will you, with or without air conditioning. Me? I've already weaned myself off of it, so that we can move forward together, by breaking our twin addictions to fossil fuels and petrochecmicals*, a chemical dependency fueled by the corruption of those who are similarly addicted at Big American Companies. 

A second orange and white cap grows by the stone wall on my commute.

White Mushroom Cap in Grass (Pearl River, July 2015).

Amen to you, during the hazy, hot, and humid weather this week. Better days are always ahead for you, my faithful. Our Father wants what's best for you, especially during this exciting Encyclical season: http://www.papalencyclicals.net/.

Flat caps and clover, perfect for bees and clover honey. What a commute!

 

* https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Petrochemical 

 

Green Day (April 2015)

Join us.

http://www.keeprocklandbeautiful.org/

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/40602834114953843/

Trinity

An old tree stump is rife with mushroom life,

as a forsythia bush mixes with the trees, roofs and sky,

and "The Great Tree*" opens up to the world with many arms.

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%A9tis_people_%28Canada%29

( Welcome home, "Mes Gens" )

It Came From Beneath the Earth

Life, growing in different directions.

Like a sci-fi movie from the 50s, sometimes nature is a trip to behold. Take a look at this odd assortment of roots and bulbs that I walked past a week or so ago, growing out in tremendously interesting ways. 
I couldn't have conceived of it as a piece of fiction if I tried!  
Wild, America.

Springing up and out.

Profuse root system at work. Does that look like a bear claw to you, too?

Gold Leaf

Gold Leaf (nature's walk home) - Pearl River, N.Y. (April 2015)

Many years ago, when I was an apprenticed hopeful seeking enlightenment at the real-life "Hogwart's" that is the Rhode Island School of Design, I remember taking an art history class for relief. Why, you ask? Well, long before there were things like dual Liberal Arts/Illustration majors existing concurrently between Brown and RISD, this young Illuminator took a full major of liberal arts classes at a SUNY school cheaply before specializing at one of the hardest schools on the planet, in the studio classes needed to enter our hallowed halls of publishing. 

I got a lot of ribbing for being on the "5 year" plan because I lost all of my SUNY studio art credits (RISD does not accept other school's ideas about "studio" and "art"), though I could have earned two degrees in four years if I remained in the 2:1 program that Oneonta had back then with F.I.T., but it was far too late for that: I saw the Chi Ro* page in a darkened SUNY art history class and I was done, especially after me and my college boyfriend took a trip to Dublin in the 90's. Gutenberg bibles in the real at Trinity? Done! I knew it, so I took the snide comments in stride, just like I always have and I always will.

Detail from the Book of Kells "Chi Ro" page.

And so, I found myself with three part-time jobs and a fully loaded studio curriculum (with the odd house painting job or two me and my fellow Yankee housemate Riddell put into the mix during one summer session in Providence), something which I think remains untouched as a feat, or at least I hope so. It was insane. You see, during the school's calendar year, studio classes are full 3-4 hour long labs that do not include the required out of class homework assignments. Oh. It was rad and intense and sometimes I had night sweats with baby freak outs (I'm still convinced the historic house we rented back then is totally haunted, stressful breakouts aside), but I regret it not one bit. 

Anywho, when I wanted an easy "A" coupled with the blissful ease of a simple mutiple-choice exam and an essay composed of my thoughts, I sometimes took a liberal arts class just for the relief of it, and like everything else in my good life, I am so glad that I did. It was there in another dark classroom filled with the bright slides of art that I learned about the concept of "intrinsic value" attached the the highly valued pigments from illuminators of yore, and why a leaf so golden it looks unreal stopped me cold on one of my walks home from this small public library in New York that I now write to you from. Because it's all connected, dudes, and that totally blows my mind. Time travel is a real thing, man! Join me in my quest, the quest for truth and knowledge.  
Seekers, welcome: http://www.risd.edu/academics/havc/courses/.

http://www.museumsassociation.org/collections/16022015-research-and-conservation-of-illuminated-manuscripts

*https://www.google.com/?gws_rd=ssl#q=Chi+Ro

Dormant seed pods, and other cool things.

Here's a seed pod in its' "latent" phase.

I will always love all things botanical, as today I give special "thanks" to my mom for being there with me, at home in her gardens, speaking their names to me in Latin or French whenever I wanted, (because she wrote her Master's dissertation in French way back in the early 60s, as one of the few women at her university to major in science), and for my deep, abiding love of all plant life. I think Springtime is so exciting, while we wait for life that was once dormant to burst back into riotous life. I know can't wait to see the show. Here we go again!

Up close and personal with nature!

Two seed pods are better than one!

A different view reveals a nautilus shape. Cool!

Can't wait for the "big show" to start! Gotta love Springtime.

P.S. - For a special bonus round of "good clean fun", try reading the photo captions aloud to yourself in a strong "New Yawk mutha's" type of accent. 
I dare you to not laugh while you do it!

Spring Flowers (Easter 2015)

A small, star-shaped, five-point Campanula.

I saw my first spring flower this week: a tiny pale purple Campanula revealed by my neighbor's patient, gentle gardening hand. 

It was so exciting to see, particularly when our spring calendar days are full of temperature "ups-and-downs". Sometimes we lose sight of the bigger picture that warmer days are ahead, but they certainly are.

Bright yellow star! A crocus finally blooms.

Then a bright yellow Crocus appeared, so bright that at first I thought it was a fake flower fallen off an Easter wreath from someone's door, blown by the strong winds to land in the yard beneath my apartment. 

It was shockingly yellow, beyond what you remember about nature after winters' color palette. After that first yellow flower, they broke out in small patches throughout the lawn the next day and all around town. It's official. Spring has arrived.

 Happy Easter, 2015.

A bunch of cheerful, wildly purple Crocuses.

Two perfect blooms of the native Crocus flower.

Aha! Spring is afoot!

Crocuses are here, there, everywhere! Enjoy the sights and scents of Spring.

The Last of the Wood Violets

Translucent wood violet.

These delicate wood violets opened up a few weeks ago, the last of the years' flowers to blossom during the warm spell we had this fall. They were so paper thin, the sunlight shone through them to brilliant, transparent effect, imparting a fragile, see-through quality upon the already frost-threatened flower. It was a good lesson in how so easily life can be broken, like the paper-thin quality of these beautiful little petals that can tear when touched lightly. We are here for so short a time! Let's enjoy it, together.

Sunlit wood violets.

In contrast to the whisper thin petals of the last wood violets are these hardy, bulbous mushrooms that sprang up almost overnight, after we finally had a good few days of soaking rain. Alien looking, aren't they? They're a cluster of big beech mushrooms growing out of an old stump. Please, do not pick and eat any mushrooms without consulting an expert first! Edibles can be very tricky to identify correctly.

Cluster of round-topped beech mushrooms.

And lastly, we have the gorgeous striated caps of the Mycena mushroom. Again, please do not pick or eat any wild mushrooms without an expert present, especially varieties with with prominent gills. Snap a picture instead, like any good ecological tourist would do. That's what I do!

Wild Mycenas and morning dew.

Benign Neglect

Diversification and preservation often accompany a purposeful, deliberate kind of neglect. Witness the relatively intact architecture and perfectly preserved cars of Cuba, a nation that was in extreme isolation from us. What would new wealth have done to its iconic architecture? Probably given us one badly done renovation after another. How many beautiful brownstones would we have lost in New York City, if Harlem and Bedford-Stuyvesant were rich white neighborhoods? 

And so it follows in nature. The front lawn of a certain old house in the historic Hudson Valley has an intact lawn; not the artificial one made with an abundance of pesticides and aggressive weed-pulling, but an incredibly rich and diverse tapestry that holds hundreds of plants, weeds, and wildflowers one doesn't typically see untouched in the suburbs, simply because the current owner does not tend to it with the same kind of care he would to his own lawn. It is often through this kind of neglect that the most beautiful wildflower flourishes. 

Welcome to September, dear readers.

Wildflowers, Wooden Fences, and a Few Weeds

Coming in for a closer look....

For today: this botanical duo from a summer's afternoon, as we officially say "goodbye" to another glorious season here on Earth. Fall begins September 22!

...reveals all sorts of intricate details.

Beautiful Mushrooms and a Gorgeous Feather

I love collecting beautiful samples during my daily walks around town, sometimes shooting a bunch of images that go together well. So, instead of an individual Instagram and/or Twitter post (which you should totally check out for different content I publish on there, too), here's a bevy of natural beauties that are out there on G-d's green earth, just like you. Enjoy the last warm breath of summer this week!

Everyday magic, in a Fairy Bonnet mushroom.(Coprinellus disseminatus)

The mark of a fearsome predator, the Red-Tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis).

Nature: Red Berries and a Hornet's Nest

Nightshade berries and a small paper wasp's nest.

Moss and Wall

A moss-covered stone wall becomes a lesson about 

man and nature living together in perfect harmony.

Treescapes