A third day in a row of brilliant dawn skies succeeded by a soft and gentle gray. Yesterday’s clouds granted us perhaps a dozen tiny scattered raindrops, no more; whether today’s deliver any remains an open question now.
The day feels hopeful, despite the colonial holiday derailing our usual patterns now.
We don’t observe Easter in an ordinary sense of the word. We’ll have a nice meal, and one of the things I invariably do on this day is to make deviled eggs, because my version is Wings’s favorite. But it’s more a general nod to spring than anything formal, much less religious. The equinox is past, solstice still far off, and in our own particular way, the first day of real spring has not yet arrived.
In this place, that day is the day of the first meadowlark’s song.
There are other markers here, too: of spring in its more advanced phase, the point at which its sunny hours begin to spill over into summer. those are the days when the small messenger spirits arrive: the hummingbirds, the bees, the dragonflies, the butterflies.
We have no such spirits now. Oh, the ordinary flies are here already, and multiplying fast; I would swear that I saw a mosquito last night, too. I know for a fact that at least one whose sting is sharp is already here — hornet, wasp, or yellowjacket, I couldn’t tell, but it crawled along the edge of an outdoor trash can yesterday as I lifted the lid, then flew off someplace it adjudged safer from the risks human habitation presents. A momentary flash of gold in flight, yes, but not the gold of a swallowtail, nor the glowing amber of the monarch.
For that, we have some weeks to wait, and possibly some intervening snow, as well.
For the moment, though, the mercury has risen well into the seventies again, and the forecast tells us that drought conditions have returned.
We shall need guidance to navigate the weeks between now and official summer, wisdom to keep our small world here healthy and safe. For the moment, it is the hawks that guide us; the piñon jays still and the chokecherry birds, newly returned; the tiny wingéd spring spirits, goldfinches slowly growing into their spring garments of brightest gold. But summer is, traditionally, a time of abundance, a season of prosperity meant to keep us through the long cold months to come, and so it is perhaps fitting that the messengers warm winds should arrive with a message, and a medicine, of love.
Today’s featured masterwork is manifest as messenger and message and medicine all, the very embodiment of the love that all three represent. From its description in the Belts Gallery here on the site:
Solstice Light Butterfly Concha Belt
The solstice light is a transcendent gift, as transformational as any chrysalis, as graceful and gentle as the butterfly’s wings. Wings brings together turning point, spirit, and light in a work of power and medicine that takes the form of a true butterfly concha belt: no metaphors here, but a work of genuine hand-cut butterflies floating along the length of the leather. Each concha, like the buckle, is cut freehand of sterling silver, body and antennae articulated, wings scalloped at their edges by hand via meticulous ajouré saw-work. The stampwork spreads gracefully across each wing, veins like gossamer branches embracing tiny hoops in a style that evokes the fine flowing lines of Art Nouveau, and each scalloped wing edge is accented with the hand-stamped rays of a rising sun. At the center of each concha sits an oval tiger’s eye cabochon, each hand-picked for its spectacular chatoyance to rest in a scalloped bezel. The focal point of the buckle, a larger butterfly wrought similarly freehand and set into a scalloped bezel trimmed with delicate twisted silver, is a large inverted teardrop of genuine Dominican blue amber, the surface naturally textured to refract the light, the interior full of equally natural inclusions that look like tiny strands of embedded jewels floating in the light. Conchas and buckle are all lightly domed, repoussé-fashion, and each butterfly hovers atop its own bouquet via the sterling silver loops on the reverse, each hand-cut, hand-shaped, and hand-milled in a wildflower design. Each silver piece is buffed to a soft polish slightly brighter than Florentine. The belt is made of heavy black leather, hand-cut and hand-beveled, with medicine motifs in the form of bear-paw prints hand-stamped down its entire length in a repeating pattern; keeper ties are slender but sturdy braided black leather. The leather belt is 11/16″ high; the conchas are 2.25″ across at the widest point by 2″ high at the highest point; tiger’s eye cabochons are 1/2″ high by 3/8″ across; buckle is 3.5″ across at the widest point by 2.5″ high at the highest point; visible portion of the Dominican blue amber cabochon is 15/16″ high by 5/8″ across at the widest point (all dimensions approximate). Other views shown below. Note: Not designed for jeans, trousers, or any apparel with belt loops; this particular work is designed to be worn externally over shirts, blouses, or dresses.
Sterling silver; Dominican blue amber; tiger’s eye; black leather
$5,500 + shipping, handling, and insurance
Notes: Requires special handling; extra shipping charges apply.
The leather belt is a standard length; a hand-made belt in a specialty size may be ordered
(either shorter or longer) for an additional $325 charge.
And this piece is a masterwork, no question, named for the illumination of the solstice that marks the midpoint of the year. It’s one of a kind. But it’s the spirit that infuses it that makes it a work of pure medicine.
It’s an elemental work, one manifest as the children of Mother Earth herself . . . and of other spirits, too, spirits we see at work clearly in our daily lives, but whose own images are not apparent to us, at least most of the time: a work of earth and sky, air and wind, light and, yes, the fire of the sun, and of the medicine that grows by virtue of their gifts, gifts of abundance, and of love.
Its a work whose design, too, reminds me of veins — unsurprising, perhaps, given the structure of a butterfly’s wing in the real world. It’s a motif that speaks of the coursing of lifeblood, of breath, of the earth’s own respiration, of the flow of the First Medicine, the water.
But it’s also a pattern that calls to my mind roots: roots and branches, extending in all directions. It’s a motif close to our own ways, deeply rooted, sufficiently so to survive the long, hard forced breakage of colonialism, surviving, spreading, reaching for the sky, able, even, to fly.
We need to be reminded of it every so often. Now is as good a time as any. Because however terrible the outside world may be, and however difficult the drought-ridden days that lie ahead?
There is abundance, too, and a message, and a medicine, of love.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2021; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
