Over the past several months, we've been greatly inspired and delighted by the work of UK-based artist Kristyna Baczynski — whose Patreon we both subscribe to, where we're rewarded with in-depth explanations of her creative / business process which has been masterfully honed over many years of making beautiful comics, zines, prints, and more. She's also been incredibly generous in offering advice as we've been developing our own creative practice together as Hummingcrow & Co.
A couple of weeks ago, we were overjoyed to receive her gorgeous Wild Year zine set highlighting wild plants growing in her region of Europe each season – and thought this would be a great opportunity to highlight her work! One of our biggest hopes and dreams is to eventually create our own zine series about the various goings-on around Hummingbird Hill over the seasons, and if we're able to manifest something half as magical as Kristyna's creations, we'll be very happy indeed.
In recent weeks, we've been noticing more and more leaves around the garden which look as though someone's been going around hole-punching them. And while seeing punctured foliage usually elicits a sense of concern about pests and disease, something about the smooth, skillfully-crafted shape of these holes makes them seem benign to me... artful even!
On a particularly hot, sunny day earlier this summer, I was out identifying plants in the garden when, rounding a bend, I was met with this sight on a mossy mound of rock near the bird bath:
They were absolutely still, frozen in their respective poses:
On Sunday she left us a cherry
On Saturday: water-logged bread
On Friday she left us most of a rat
On Thursday: a snake with no head
A corvid is feeding her offspring
Each afternoon, soaking their food
To some birds, the bath is for bathing
But for Raven, it helps feed her brood
On Wednesday she left us cat kibble
On Tuesday: a handful of rice
On Monday she left us some swollen dog food
A week’s worth of leftovers— nice
A corvid comes by, on a mission
Each afternoon, feeding her brood
To some birds, the bath is for bathing
But for Raven: a sink for her food
On Monday she left us another bird’s claw
On Tuesday: some limp deli meat
On Wednesday she left us a ratty mouse tail
On Thursday: a peanut-shell treat
A corvid comes by, on a mission
Each afternoon, soaking her food
To some birds, the bath is for bathing
But for Raven, it helps feed her brood
On Friday she left us a snail shell
On Saturday: bits of fish skin
On Sunday she left us a chicken leg-bone
And soon she'll surprise us again
Read on to reveal the inspiration for this bird bath ballad (warning – if you're squeamish about dismembered animal bits, don't scroll all the way to the end).
Path to Enlichenment | Part II: Lipstick Powderhorn
While closely inspecting some shingles this spring, I came upon this scene that looked as though a spider was getting ready to hang its laundry out to dry:
This is another Cladonia—meaning “club-like”—lichen, similar to the first in this series, the pixie cup. You can tell how this one got its common name, “lipstick powderhorn”:
As the beaming rays of the summer sun begin to broil our hilltop habitat, rarely a minute of the day ticks by without some feathered visitor or other seeking a sip or a swim at our weather-worn stone basin. But a bird bath is far more than just a small pool of water providing relief for panting beaks – it's a crossroads of avian activity which sets the stage for all sorts of stories to unfold, featuring familiar characters, surprise guests, and thrilling plot twists.
Here's a sampling of the many fine programs on offer through BB-TV in case you're considering subscribing:
Artistic Inspiration: Kristyna Baczynski 
Catching Some Rays 
🎶 On Sunday She Left Us A Cherry 🎵
