Delicate traceries of ancient fern fronds, preserved between sheets of handmade paper. Each specimen tells a story of shadow and moisture, of patient unfurling in the dappled understory light.
Autumn 2024Shelf upon shelf of mysterious life, painted in ochres and umbers. These patient architects of decay transform fallen giants into fertile earth.
Winter 2024In the smallest scale, entire landscapes unfold. Emerald cushions of sphagnum, silver threads of old man's beard, the jewel-bright capsules of sporophytes reaching skyward.
Spring 2025Lichen maps on boulder faces, each species a different color in a palette that took centuries to compose. Crustose, foliose, fruticose: the three kingdoms of patient colonization, painting the bones of the earth in seafoam and rust and gold.
Summer 2025Quick ink drawings of water striders, diving beetles, and the silver flash of minnows in the shallows. Life at the surface tension between worlds.
Autumn 2025They appear overnight like small miracles: chanterelles in their apricot gowns, inky caps dissolving back into the earth, the ghostly pipes of Indian pipe emerging from the leaf litter. A field guide to the ephemeral.
Winter 2025Tracing the tenacious paths of ivy across stone walls, each tendril a small act of devotion to sunlight. Patterns of green persistence.
Spring 2026River-tumbled quartz, flint with its secret fire, the moss agate that holds a forest in miniature. Found objects that fit perfectly in a coat pocket.
Summer 2026There is a kind of wisdom that only comes from watching something grow at a pace imperceptible to human attention. The lichen on the garden wall has been working on its masterpiece for decades...
The forest floor, still half-frozen, offers its first gifts of the year. Velvet shank clusters on the fallen elm, their caps a warm tawny orange against the grey bark...
In the frozen months, the cabinet of curiosities fills with different treasures. Frost crystals on the windowpane, the architecture of bare branches, the unexpected warmth of a stone held close...
This is a place for slow looking and careful noticing. A digital cabinet of curiosities assembled by a wandering naturalist-poet, collecting the small wonders that most people step over: the geometry of a fern's unfurling, the secret colors of bracket fungi, the way morning light catches in a raindrop on a spider's web.
Here you will find botanical illustrations, field notes, and letters written from the understory of old forests. Everything is observed at the pace of moss growing on stone.
"In every walk with nature, one receives far more than one seeks."