- Category: Blog
It is in the moments just after the dead of winter, that the toes of spring start wriggling. There is one night of death after dying and then there is a while of becoming before the green shoots of life start poking their heads out of the soil. I and my lover took a long wandering walk through the forest yesterday winding with the abundant rushing stream of snow melt, brushing away budding branches and carving a path that was all but ice a week ago. Many of the trees had dropped branches and they had been sitting in the moisture waiting and becoming supple. This catcher, is a reminder of days to come, in the spring flowers should be tied to it's fringe and on the following winter solstice they should be burned.