Isabel's boyfriend is working at a residential camp for the summer. An email from him last weekend described "moths the size of my hand" and Isabel and I knew exactly what he was talking about. I have always wanted to document this story, but I wasn't sure how...


Journalling: When Kate and Alex(my sister's kids) were little they spent time at the cottage with Gam and Namp every summer, My dad taught them about nature, how to hold a snake, how to catch a frog and the story of the luna moth. The adult moth has no mouth and lives only 10 days after emerging, itís sole purpose to reproduce. This, of course, makes them incredibly hard to find and Namp and the girls spent many an hour tramping through the trees to find a single specimen. Each moth became a treasure, cherished through the years.


After my dad died, each of his children contributed something to his final resting place. Ian found a stone at the cottage, a place he loved deeply, which became his headstone. Andrew built a wooden box for his ashes, and I made a quilt to house the box. Janet made a floral arrangement for the graveside. At the funeral, a private family affair, we were invited to place a note or a remembrance of him in the drawstring bag which enclosed everything before burial. Each of us stepped forward with our letter and stepped back to allow the next their turn. Alex was the last and from her pocket, she pulled a single luna moth wing, her farewell gift. journalling July 2011


KPertiet-black sign maker alpha, messed up overlays No2


AAspnes-loop da loop hearts No2


MMartin-just linens No18


CJones-Extraction with Dimension


luna moth extracted from Google images