Mère Nature
“Three circles, gathered like food a mother sets aside for her child.”
Three tondi. A radish, an edible flower, a scallion — each held inside its own circle, gathered as if from a garden, then pressed and dried the way flowers are kept between the pages of a book. Beside them, a cable, a bloom and a piece of jade share one circle: the cable feeds us now, the flower has fed us always, and set together they become an offering and a small joke — the means of staying alive keep changing, the gesture of care does not. No promise of eternity here, only the older wisdom that everything passes and still deserves to be set down with attention. Jade holds things this way. So do quiet offerings. Everything will disappear; before it does, it asks to be truly seen.
