A shiny snake bookmark, plus a new book to tuck it into (maybe a pair of novellas by Natalia Ginzburg, an anthology of poems about the weather, a book of breakfast recipes that includes "useful tips like the top songs for boiling an egg to, and how to store mushrooms," or a rare and covetable exhibition catalog documenting 500 years of women's work.)
Life Everywhere, a poster by Lexie Smith for New York Communities for Change: a compendium of "133 cut and collaged scans taken from six Simon & Schuster field guides: Mushrooms, Trees, Horses and Ponies, Fossils, Cacti and Succulents, and Shells."
A Regime des Fluers perfume that makes you smell like a cactus.
A water glass that looks like a seething sample of microscopic pond life.
A honey pot woven purse, impractically sized for toting useful items such as books and whatnot, but perfect for stashing foraged mushrooms and emergency snacks.
A long-coveted sweater in blossom pink.
Minty-fresh shoes + a bunch of flowers that last forever (or nearly).
Tiny earrings shaped like whirling balls of incandescent gas.
A way to tell the future, by Rebecca Artemesia.
Sunshine-colored silk scrunchies for overgrown pandemic 'dos.
An hourglass, plus a glorious hour all alone.
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Other gifts for mothers, from other years: 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020
