There's a print I keep coming back to.
It started as a cedar tree — the kind that line our property on the islands, the ones that hold the whole place together through the winter. But as I worked into the block, a figure appeared in the roots. Not something I planned. Something that arrived.
I called her the Druid Daughter. She's rooted in the ground, arms become branches, one with her environment.
Block printing works like that. You cut away what doesn't belong and the image you've been carrying around in your body finally has somewhere to go. The resistance of the block slows you down enough to actually see what you're making. You can't rush a block. You can only stay with it.
I've been thinking about why I keep making prints of the things that live here — the fish from the lake, the herons, the cedars, the wolves that feel close even when they're not. I think it's a way of paying attention. Of saying: I see you. You matter. Let me carry you with me in a different form.
Druid Daughter is available in the shop — to bring her grounded presence into your life.