Outside this morning, it was clearer than ever that summer is already ceding space to fall. Over the last few days, its arrival has begun to gild the leaves all over the county, from aspen to cottonwood to the red willows that lend people and place their name. Here in our own small corner, the only deciduous trees still untouched by such untimely change are the globe and weeping willows and the smaller fire maple.
We have no wild sunflowers this year that I can see. My fear is that they have been choked off by the invasive tumbleweeds with which drought and colonial incursion cursed us a few years ago. Tumbleweeds, despite their association in popular culture with the so-called American West, are not native species to any part of this land mass; they were introduced by colonizers, like that same practice, overtake everything in their path. The only native flower that seems able to survive them is ragwort, and we are already seeing the allergen-laden sea of their bright golden blooms in the fields and along the ditches where the sunflowers once would have danced.
It’s better than a sea of tumbleweed flowers, admittedly, but not by much.
Of our own wildflowers, the blue flax is nearly gone, its flowers too fragile for the high heat this summer has delivered to us. The catmint no longer seems to be blooming, but blue-violet flowers still adorn the parts of their stalks, if only because the bees and butterflies have not yet stripped them entirely. The gladioli, iris, and larkspur that I planted several years ago have not survived the intervening years of drought and soil aridification, but one stand of hollyhocks is stubbornly surviving, if not exactly thriving. Two or three of its hot pink blossoms have joined by a single softer pink bloom, and a white bud or two is visible now.
The hollyhocks are not indigenous either, of course, although, like the weeping willows, they’ve been long known here, and very popular. But their soft shades remind me of some of our truly native blossoms: those found on certain cacti, and, of course, the prairie evening primrose. In that, they are much like the skies bookending the day now, dawn and dusk softly brightened with summer’s last flowering light.
This week’s Friday Feature consists of three pairs of earrings that are manifest in the shades of this light — pale and delicate pinks, soft rose shades, the lilac hues of twilit moments. We begin with the pair [also shown above] that most wholly embodies this summer season, the primrose that catches the light of the morning sky, and that has long been used by our peoples as medicine. From its description in the Earrings Gallery here on the site:
Prairie Evening Primrose Earrings
At the high elevation of these alpine lands, remarkably delicate wildflowers grow and thrive, from the fiery bands of the blanketflowers to the the pale, shimmering pink of prairie evening primrose. With these earrings, Wings summons the spirit of the latter, deceptively fragile-looking blossoms in pink and white that dot the rolling meadows of the high desert. Each drop is saw-cut freehand, the petals scalloped with a the blade of a jeweler’s saw; each petal is articulated by similar saw-work, separate from those around it, and gently veined with flowing freehand stampwork. At center, pale pink mussel shell cabochons glow in tiny round saw-toothed bezel. Tiny jump rings at top hold the sterling silver French wires in place. Earrings hang a generous 1″ long by 1-1/16″ across; cabochons are 3/16″ across (dimensions approximate). Reverse shown below:
Sterling silver; pink mussel shell
$425 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This pair is as delicate as the petals it embodies, each one of those petals individually saw-cut, freehand, layered atop each other, yet still joined at their bases. The pink mussel shell cabochons are extraordinary, too — deeply hued, with and intense pearlescent shimmer that does nothing to dim their slightly dusty rose internal glow. the are the perfect summer earrings for this place, manifest as plant medicine, and light medicine, too.
The second pair is also set with pink stones, but instead of flowers, this one is wrought to capture the light — a new light, for a new day, and a new season’s cooling respite. From its description in the same gallery:
A New Light Earrings
Every dawn holds all the promise of a new day, and a chance to begin again in the embrace of a new light. With these classic concha earrings, Wings honors the pale rose glow of the sunrise sky and all the promise it holds each day. Each drop is a perfect circle, hand-punched of shimmering sterling silver and domed traditionally into a concha in the old way, repoussé-fashion. Across the center of each, a trio of old-school sunrise motifs gleams in a gentle arc; beneath, a single round cabochon of rose quartz, icy pink with all the magic of the dawn, sits at the center. Hand-drilled holes at the top center allow them to hang suspended from sterling silver coil-and-ball-bead French earring wires. Each earring, domed, is 3/4″ across in all directions; each stone is 3/16″ across (dimensions approximate).
Sterling silver; rose quartz
$325 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This pair is set with pink jewels, too, but these are the palest rose quartz — tiny dewdrops tinted with the first rays of the rising sun. They’re remarkably delicate, perfect for the small, barely-domed conchas into which they are set. Appearing as they do beneath a single arc of old-style radiant stampwork, looking a them really does feel like observing this morning’s pale pearlescent sky.
Of course, under the conditions we have this season, our skies turn pink on all sides at sunrise and sunset alike — pink and rose, mulberry and lilac, too. And all of these shades appear in today’s final featured work. This third pair, too, is found in the Earrings Gallery, but it belongs specifically to the section that holds The Standing Stones Collection of gemstone-bead earrings. This pair embodies both ends of the day, the rising and setting of the moons of twilight. From its description:
The Moons of Twilight Earrings
Rising or setting, the moons of twilight lend a haunting glow to a dusken world. With these earrings, Wings captures the lilac shimmer of the dawn and the fiery rose of nightfall, and the orbs that light the sky through the dark, and even in the day. Each strand of hand-selected beads is strung on filament-thin sterling silver wire: at top, giant orbs of lilac and lavender lepidolite marbled with shimmering white quartz; thence a descending gradient of old, old rose quartz spheres, beautifully veined and nearly white; larger South sea shell pearls in dusky rose and a smaller pair in a warm and gentle moonlit pink; tiny anchors of plummy red natural sapphire; and linking all of the orbs, tiny faceted rondels of genuine ruby in a rich deep rose shade. South Sea shell pearls are human-created of natural materials, the shells of the same oysters (and sometimes other molluscs) who manufacture their natural counterparts: ground, specially treated, formed into small spheres, then coated with a colorful shimmer that evokes the glow of cultured pearls. Earrings hang 2-3/4″ long, excluding wires (dimensions approximate); sterling silver coil-and-ball-bead French wires hold them securely. Designed jointly by Wings and Aji.
Sterling silver; high-grade lepidolite; ruby; old rose quartz; South Sea shell pearls; sapphire
$175 + shipping, handling, and insurance
This pair is brand-new, completed only this past Sunday, and they evoke the shades of twilight here perfectly. High-grade lepidolite and natural red sapphire anchor them, top and bottom, like the wine-hued shades of a post-storm sunset or a sunrise heralding a storm yet to come. Between them float the moons of summer: budding, berry, and the palest icy pearl of very old natural rose quartz. And the natural ruby faceted rondels that separate each round bead glow with a plummy fire.
All three pairs are perfect for these days on the season’s downward slope, when the outside world forces everyone’s thoughts toward fall and winter behind it, even as the mercury still daily approaches the century mark. They remind us to stop and observe, acknowledge, appreciate, honor the gifts that this season gives us, including the medicines found only in its latter days.
Like now.
As I write, the latest stormclouds have gathered and are now gaining force and power, but behind them will be more sun, and a sliver moon in the darkest hours. These are the days of summer’s last flowering light, and we are going to enjoy ever moment of beauty they offer us now.
~ Aji
All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2024; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.
