Today is a mix of sun and light but expansive cloud cover . . . and still no chance of a single drop of rain. Now, as I write, what was a moment ago only a brisk breeze has gathered itself into real wind, and it’s likely that the pall of smoke and dust will move in before the day is out.
At least it’s warm — albeit a little less so than is historically our norm now. But at least it feels a bit like summer, and after the events of recent weeks, that alone is enough for us to be grateful.
Yesterday afternoon brought us another gift, too: the first dragonfly of the season. My fear now is that it will be our only one, given how dry the forecast looks for the foreseeable future. We have had a dearth of small spirits already: not many bees, thanks to the unseasonal cold; our first Western tiger swallowtail butterfly appeared only two days ago, and our first painted lady just yesterday. And the dragonfly?
Well, that, too, was unusual.
Across the many desert microclimates that make up this state, the ecosystems vary widely. Up here in this alpine habitat, what has historically been far greater levels of precipitation combined with four discrete seasons has allowed for a greener environment than in other parts of this land now artificially bordered and labeled “New Mexico.” Our animal and plant life, both migratory and in permanent residence, reflects this climatic diversity, with a wide array of patterns and colors present in their respective robes.
Not so very far south, that all changes: The landscape flattens; the green turns to scrub; and the animal species dress themselves for camouflage rather than for display. In the southern part of the state, there are dragonflies in summer, but they look very different from those up here: bodies shorter and more solid, color the gray of tarnished steel. It’s ideal, of course, for blending safely into an environment composed mostly of chalky, talc-y dust and the odd mesquite bush or ocotillo. But it’s dull and colorless compared to the riot of reds and greens and blues we find up here.
Usually, our first dragonflies of the season are the smallish red rock skimmers, copper-threaded wings flashing crimson in the light, followed thereafter by the larger blue and green darners and the tiny blue damselflies. But yesterday’s messenger was of the southern variety: shorter, heavier, and entirely gray.
It feels almost ominous, as though one of these tiny spirit messengers had taken up the task of such a long journey to warn us of what’s to come. Given the state of our current climate and weather, it doesn’t take much to imagine what that could be.
And yet, there were the two butterflies. There were the bees, including the neon green sweat bees that, while indigenous to this continent, hail from lands far to the northeast; they have, in recent years, taken up summer and fall residence here, as well. And so while we know only too well what omens the presence of yesterday’s other visitor might portend, it feels as though there is still cause for hope that our more colorful summer residents might yet appear.
And if they do? Perhaps that is enough on which to hang hope for the summer rains, as well. They are, after all, spirits of water and air alike, engaged in water song and fire dance as they dart in all directions or hover long enough to deliver whatever message has been assigned them.
Today’s featured work is the very embodiment of these local messenger spirits, of their flight trajectory and their shimmering dance as well. From its description in the Necklaces Gallery here on the site:
Water Song and Fire Dance Dragonfly Necklace
Dragonfly is a messenger of the spirits, a manifestation of summer’s water song and fire dance. Wings summons the strength found in such fragile wings to carry the message safely through the season’s storm and light. The dragonfly pendant is cut freehand of a single piece of solid fourteen-gauge sterling silver and stamped similarly freehand, a repeating crescent pattern forming the segments of its lower body and long, flowing lines veining the wings in a design that evokes the elegance and natural grace of Art Nouveau imagery. The head is teardrop of perfect sky-blue Kingman turquoise set into a saw-toothed bezel; the upper body, a stunningly radiant rectangular cabochon of Rosarita (gold slag) nestled in a plain, low-profile bezel similarly hand-made. The bail, lightly flared at the top and tapered at the ends, is hand-milled in a feather pattern whose flowing lines pick up the veining in the wings. The pendant is buffed to a glowing Florentine finish and hangs suspended from an extraordinary strand of burnished sterling silver round beads. Bead strand is 18″ long, excluding findings; pendant hangs 2-7/8″ long, including bail, and is 3″ across at the widest point. The bail is 1/2″ across at the widest point; the turquoise cabochon is 5/16″ long by 1/4″ across at the widest point; and the Rosarita cabochon is 5/8″ long by 1/4″ wide (all dimensions approximate). Full view shown below.
Sterling silver; Rosarita (gold slag); Kingman turquoise
$1,450 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This work is one of those rare pieces that occupies a spot on my personal list of all-time favorites — across Wings’s entire, decades-long body of work. Utterly new, it still retains the spirit of Indigenous silverwork of a century ago, a blend of Art Nouveau’s flowing grace and Art Deco’s bold geometry. The cabochons are perfectly matched: a head in the shade of a flawless alpine sky, and of the rain-filled watersheds; the upper body as fiery as any desert sun, as scarlet as the dancing skimmers that we hope will be in residence soon.
As messengers go, this one now defines hope: In days filled mostly by smoke and flames, they hold the promise of rain on their wings — a promise of pollination, and a flowering world.
In this summer so catastrophically altered from the norm, we cannot ask for more than that.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2022; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
