I sat in the park last weekend, reading a book and minding a sleeping baby James. I saw some sticks laying around the bench on which I was sitting, and got to thinking.
I picked up a stick, pulled out my Swiss army knife, and carefully and slowly carved down the diameter of the stick.
At the end of each knife draw, I tilted the blade slowly out about 90 degrees to open up the feather.
I carved feathers over and over again, until most of the stick had been transformed into thin slices, and soon I was almost done with carving a feather stick. I cut off the bottom (which was pencil-lead thin by this time) and trimmed off the top.
Looking around for something to dye the flower with, I saw some American Winterberry (Ilex verticillata). I grabbed a branch full of them, cut a pop can open and mushed it all up.
Then I coated the flower in the berry juices, and carved a flower stem out of a piece of beech.
I dyed that green by rubbing some dill leaves over it.
I pieced the two together with a hole and sharp tail, and voila! Une fleur.
I gave it to Spring. She has it in her office.
Mungo
I picked up a stick, pulled out my Swiss army knife, and carefully and slowly carved down the diameter of the stick.
At the end of each knife draw, I tilted the blade slowly out about 90 degrees to open up the feather.
I carved feathers over and over again, until most of the stick had been transformed into thin slices, and soon I was almost done with carving a feather stick. I cut off the bottom (which was pencil-lead thin by this time) and trimmed off the top.
Looking around for something to dye the flower with, I saw some American Winterberry (Ilex verticillata). I grabbed a branch full of them, cut a pop can open and mushed it all up.
Then I coated the flower in the berry juices, and carved a flower stem out of a piece of beech.
I dyed that green by rubbing some dill leaves over it.
I pieced the two together with a hole and sharp tail, and voila! Une fleur.
I gave it to Spring. She has it in her office.
Mungo
