making

I’ve been making these inks, dyes, extractions – I’m perhaps even more unsure than before what to call them – for a few months. Not every day. Some days I just don’t want to have to think about what to do, or how to do it. 
In a single afternoon I watched the wind strip the cherry tree. Last leaves, back-lit by the sun, waving then falling. The garden was a carpet of yellow and I did not take a single photograph.