Where the Old Walls Meet Older
A quiet note from the walls and what lives softly beside us.
Naomi Smith
She Turns, and So Do We
A field ritual for Lughnasa: land art, listening, and kinship with the turning year.
Odd Kin Archive entry 001
Sculptures made from gathered matter. Given name and purpose, unruly companions for living in mess.
The Watchful Woods
By the lake, the woods turn darker. Older. The stones there feel like they carry memory. These trees are watchful. I like to go there sometimes, and watch right back.
Tallow Balm
Tallow, olive oil, clary sage, rose geranium. Made for keeping. Maybe for trading.
Sinkwater
Sometimes I wash my hair in the sink,
be grateful it’s the bathroom sink and not the kitchen.
That’s where mum washes her hair, in the kitchen sink.
An echo from childhood but she still does it.
I do it now, imagining her hands,
my hands,
washing my
Welcome
Field notes, handmades, quiet experiments in living. A stitched-together rhythm of place and practice.