In the spirit of flowers
June Full Moon Offering
I always thought flowers looked more like stars than plants, creating constellations and galaxies in the way they arrange themselves in the soil. Their petals radiate like a pulsing nebula, reaching upward towards their heavenly home. In biodynamics, there is a reason that flowers are symbolic of the air element (fruits=fire, soil=earth, leaves=water). They live on a plane just above our own. Their roots are planted firmly where we stand, but a part of them belongs somewhere else. I think I relate sometimes.
The 100 day woodcut flower study {which is turning out to be more than 100 days, but will continue next week! I am currently traveling and don’t have the supplies to print at the moment} deepened my appreciation and understanding of how they show up in the world. One thing that came to me, is that flowers wish to be shared. Flowers are picked, their lives cut short, simply to be stuck in a vase somewhere else. This might sound tragic, but they have more of a hand in it than we know.
For millions of years since the first flower bloomed on those primordial waters, they have perfected the art of attraction. Scientists studied all of the ways in which they form their petals, color their blooms and perfume their scents to draw in passing pollinators. It is truly an act of creation how the tubular nicotania bloom fits the beak of a hummingbird perfectly, how the sunflower creates a bullseye pattern to guide pollinators {but only visible to us under UV light}, and even how certain flowers smell like carrion to catch the attention of flies.
One thing scientists haven’t studied however, is how flowers have worked their magic on us humans. We spread their lineages farther than perhaps any other pollinator, bringing their kin from one end of the earth to the other as if we simply could not leave them behind. Is this our choice, or their persuasion? Maybe they have influenced us more than we know on an evolutionary level.
While a flower is not pollinated when it is harvested, it is still an act of reproduction. The more people that are touched by its beauty or scent or medicine, the more people will grow this flower, or seek someone else who is growing it. By being harvested and shared among humans, it multiplies its effect further than it ever could by living and dying in one place. Maybe it’s a reach to say this was all in the grand plan of the flowers, but I wouldn’t put anything past a being that was born of the stars.
So, in honor of this full flower moon and all of the wildflowers I've devoted so many hours and days to, I’ve created an offering to spread some flower love in my own way. Over the past many months of writing these newsletters, I’ve dreamed of putting something physical back into the world again.
For paid subscribers, instead of a typical full moon guide, I’ll be sending a mini woodcut print on archival paper of one of my flower studies. Along with the print, there will be a personal letter reflecting my notes and observations about that particular plant {with perhaps some other seasonal musings}.
One of the reasons I was so drawn to woodcut printmaking is because every print is an original. Once the wood is carved, each piece is inked and printed by hand. In a world where original art can feel inaccessible and the wave of lifeless AI art is on the rise, this feels like my own little rebellion.
Receiving actual mail feels like a balm to the soul for me. It’s like there are real people out in the world and this little gift is a real connection, a thread to weave us together. {This is also serendipitous as
just announced her physical mail offering!}This is a thank you for supporting this journey of mine through the many changes life has brought me over the past year, and it is a thank you to the plants who have held my hand through difficult days and nights. If this is an offering that people seem to enjoy, it may become a regular quarterly gift to paid subscribers.
To receive the print and letter {which maybe I’ll call Moon Mail?} you must be a current paid subscriber by the summer solstice on Friday June 20. More info below: