I started a new book today made out of a Trader Joe bag (cover) and the last of my sumptuous paper from Cartiera Clandestina da Venezia. All the drawings are of seed heads/dead flower heads from our gardens. I can never get over the elegant architecture of a seed factory. At the left are a dry Siberian iris pod, just cracking open to release its round ball-bearing-like seeds from their long chambers; at the bottom is one of the million bee balm or bergamot dried heads with its tubular seeds and the scent of Earl Grey tea hanging on.
Above are a blasted zinnia flower, dry as toast, with its arrow-shaped seeds; and a coneflower head almost ripe but not quite yet. Its seeds are still truncated little green comets, and the birds are not yet feasting on it. At the far right are the glossy, black berries of a Peruvian lily, the translucent flower petals like paper peeling off of an old wall.