JANUARY

Staying Home Month

January seems to be the quietest month of whole year. I am not sure if it is in contrast with bustling holiday season or because there’s general quietness in nature, but it always serves as a kind of a palate cleanser.

January also is a quite literal cleanser as this is the time when I clean and organize my studio for the year ahead. Physical clutter equals mental clutter for me, it’s somehow in my makeup and not worth fighting, and when January comes around I happily oblige. I like the slow process of finding places for everything and re-discovering things I forgot I have.

And I have a lot of things. Tapestries and needlepoints hanging from the ceiling on antique clothes drying racks and flanking both sides of fireplace. Shelves above windows hold rolls of vintage cotton velvets and display case underneath keeps all finished works safe until they are shipped to their new owners. Cabinets, drawers, boxes, boxes, boxes. I waste very little, almost nothing. Every precious scrap of fabric gets put in drawers with dividers for later use in stumpwork. Beads are cut off remnants of Victorian evening gowns, broken rosary gets new life. There’s a quart size crock on my work table that serves as trash bin, it gets emptied once a week, that’s the amount of waste I allow myself. I see so much waste around me, I refuse to participate in trashing this corner of the world I’ve learned to love dearly. Deep respect I have for everything that was created with care and love is at the beginning and the end of what I do - and why I do it. A sole reason why it all started.

Actually, did I ever tell you how it all started? It started with me drowning in too many pieces of modern and vintage fabrics, too precious to be thrown away and not big enough for any sizable project. I wanted to bring them on eye level again, they were beautiful, there was still magic in them, and they were…wool, silk, cotton. Natural fibers, adored by moths. Although I never had an infestation I was constantly aware of smorgasbord it could all potentially turned into if I am not diligent about constantly checking, airing out, lining everything with cedar and sticking lavender sashes into every fold of fabric.

  At the same time I was also still running cut flower farm. From the beginning all disease control was done organically. Applying principles of permaculture and prevention provided garden with plenty of wild life, and with it came butterflies at daytime and hummingbird moths after dark. The old farm was morphing into something different entirely, enchanted place, fairytale secret garden.

  When these two realities started to intertwine and meld together I’m not entirely sure. Summer seasons of working in flower fields flowed into winters spent in my studio trying to keep magic going. If there were butterflies in a winter what would they look like? Would their wings glisten in pale winter light? Would their movements be soft and gentle like falling snow?

It’s been years and process only got more fascinating. There were changes, of course. Pandemic years put an end to flower sales and supplying flowers to weddings, and now I grow flowers only for me and my neighbors. I don’t mind, I got an opportunity to observe the whole cycle, from seed to seedling, then growing into maturity, flowering, and setting seed again. You don’t get to see it in flower production business, and there’s always a feeling of something missing. I let fat green caterpillars have their fill of fresh green leaves - they will turn into Sphinx Moths later in a summer and compete with lightning bugs for attention. The old farm once again found its unhurried rhythm - and so did I. We breathe in sunshine and night sky. We exhale stars and flowers. And butterflies.

XOXO Larysa

P.S. Most of photos are taken by me with some by talented Ashley Pieper of @ashleypieperphotography ( they're the better ones ) if you in Saint Louis looking for a photographer she’s the one!