Jaques Herbin 1798 Cornaline d’Egypte
This is the last day of the April #30Inks30Days challenge. We haven’t finished the story, but we’ll keep working on it, though maybe not every every day. There’s another challenge coming up in June. Think about joining in!
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Thumb-nails of the story so far and a list of the inks I used.
My pen-cleaning cloth for the month:
J. Herbin Ambre de Birmanie
Colorverse Martian
Waterman Tender Purple
Pelikan Edelstein Smoky Quartz
Diamine 150th Anniversary Lilac Night Ink
iroshizuku kiri-same ink
(My fatigue got the better of me and I didn’t get this posted when I meant to do.)
Krishna Moonview Ink
The extra photos are to show the sheeny qualities of the ink.
Note: From here forward, this story is being co-authored by Meredith Feiertag.
Diamine Cult Pens Robert
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The goldfinch finally let me me get some shots with my good camera. It started out posing in the hawthorn tree,
then went for a drink at the bar.
I really must get a bird feeder.
Sailor Manyo Yamabuki
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On another note, I couldn’t sleep last night and, when the sun rose, I saw that the clouds were turning all kinds of pinks and were layered dramatically, so I decided to take a quick walk to the park.
I saw what I think was an eagle.
I saw the sun warm the sky,
and turn the mountains, still snowy from the last storm, rosy and coral.
I saw the sun burst slowly over the horizon,
and turn the trees to copper.
And I saw a small pyramid of balls, sparkling with frost.
I couldn’t read the note and, with the corona virus still rampaging, I didn’t dare touch it, but I think it was meant as a gift to encourage people who come to the park to enjoy.
I got scolded thoroughly by a raven,
and made my way home, where I found the grape hyacinths had emerged and were tingling with rime.
And then, as I turned to go in the house, I heard a goldfinch singing in our locust tree. I searched for it,
but it was tiny and high up in the branches. In those moments of searching, the sun inched up behind me, and then there it was, yellow-gold in the morning light, and I couldn’t get a decent photo of it. But the suddenness of the bird’s vivid visibility was like a revelation of something crossing from another world. First it was merely sound, beautiful sound, and then it was a gift of colour and light serenading the neighbourhood from our backyard.
Maybe it means something, this bird and its song in the morning. To me, it was enough on its own, a moment that transported my thoughts to a respite of loveliness.
Eventually, though, I do hope to get a better photo.
