silvered flowers, beehive bonbons, and a deck of rainbows/gifts some mothers may enjoy

Silver paper flower by Momoca.

The Shenandoah Mansions linen robe (and/or the matching pajamas and eye mask) by Desmond & Dempsey and Ash Hotels.

Beehive bonbons from Shane's Confectionery filled with honey and black sesame praline.

English Garden Eccentrics: Three Hundred Years of Extraordinary Groves, Burrowings, Mountains and Menageries by Todd Longstaffe-Gowan, about: 

[A] series of obscure and eccentric English garden-makers who, between the early seventeenth and early twentieth centuries, created intensely personal and idiosyncratic gardens. They include such fascinating characters as the superstitious antiquary William Stukeley and the animal- and bird-loving Lady Read, as well as the celebrated master of Vauxhall Gardens, Jonathan Tyers, who created ... one of the gloomiest and most perverse anti-pleasure gardens in Georgian England. Others built miniature mountains, shaped topiaries, displayed exotic animals, excavated caves, and assembled architectural fragments and fossils to realise their gardens ...

Nomenclature of Colors playing cards by Roomytown.

A packet of "Dark Night" scabiosa seeds.

A snail sketch print by Annette Messager, "Locus Solus XIII," because, snail-like, mothers have the power to carry home with them.

An album worth blasting on the way to and from pick-up.

Bienamé hand creams that smell like life in bloom, the color red, or happy days.

Peaceful girl with fist charm by Leith Clark x Catbird (I like to think she is catching a star).

An Apogee card featuring a quote by Gary Indiana, wishing for the ineffable.

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Related posts: choosing motherhood / what's possible / true colors

Other gifts some mothers may enjoy: 2017 / 2018 / 2019 / 2020 / 2021 / 2022 / 2023 / 2024 / 2025

candle, snowflake, gingerbread, angel

Clara Peeters, "Stilleben mit Façon-de-Venise-Glas, Römer und einer Kerze (Still life with dainties, rosemary, wine, jewels and a burning candle)," 1607.

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Cecelia Glasher's sketches of snowflakes, ca. 1855.

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A tree in winter, photographed by Dr. S.B. Ward ca. 1889, via Anonymous Works.

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Fruit bowl carved by Robert "Mouseman" Thompson, ca. 1950s.

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From Listen and Hear by Kathleen Shoesmith, 1973, via stopping off place.

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Metalwork by Erin Jackson Raynes.

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Barbara Cooney illustration for American Folk Songs for Christmas, via Honey and Wax Books.

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A recipe for gingerbread ca. 1395 and gilded gingerbread and mold. The Fitzwilliam Museum.

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Peter Doig, untitled watercolor, 1999, via le jardin robo.

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Antonia Pinter, "Szélanya," 2024. A History of Frogs.

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Wilson Alwyn Bentley, snow crystal ca. 1910.

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Merry everything, friends.

gifts for wildly creative ten-year-old goofballs

For medievalists/miniaturists: a decorate-your-own castle blank, complete with inspiration, craft glue, and an assortment of craft paints and popsicle sticks (old egg cartons make especially good masonry). Add a working catapult kit for siege warfare re-enactments.

For painters: Akashiya watercolor brushes and a big ol' New SoHo SKETCH pad.

For creative writers: A fuzzy one-eyed creature journal, complete with padlock, for monstrously good drafts.

For sculptors: Wikki Stix (a magical melding of yarn and wax) to doodle in three dimensions.

For activists: The Pushcart War by Jean Merrill, which reveals (hilariously and metafictionally) words to live by —"don't be a truck"—and what it really takes to change the world.

For collectors: An earmarked ten-spot tucked inside a coin purse for treasure-seeking expeditions, jaunts to the candy shop, or bookstore adventures.

For recipe tinkerers: Extremely good cocoa, fluffy marshmallows, a whole can of real whipped cream, and Dutch chocolate sprinkles, for concocting the ultimate hot chocolate.

For composers: A pocket-sized Stylophone synthesizer for sonic noodling.

For the late-night button-pusher: A Snoopy Timex, complete with stopwatch and backlight.

For cuddlers: Fuzzy slippers with kitten ears in pink or brown.

For the hoarder of Jellycats: A Raindrop.

For all: Kiosk's "noisemaker from hell", because the holidays come but once a year (and because, despite its fearsome appearance, it only makes a subdued squeak, haha).

gifts for question-askers

A vintage cup for reading the tea leaves. (More here and here.)

A dictonary of symbols, for deciphering meanings, and a dreamlike Borges oracle by Catalina Kobelt for finding questions.

An obsidian mirror for peering into the dark.

Uusi's Supra deck for Jungian reflection.

An enamel "he loves me, he loves me not" spinning top pendant, for protecting unwary daisies from the lovelorn.

A fortune-telling pencil sourced from a mystical machine in Des Moines that will provide a yes, no, or maybe so answer. 

A Hades Wool sweater with the lyrics to Joni Mitchell's "Both Sides Now" for cloudy realities.

Pat Perry's risograph-printed open call for guidance for anyone seeking to be "part of a collective search for perspective in confusing times." 

A 32-sided 1930s-era fortune-telling dice for more answers than you can get from a Magic-8 Ball.

Hysteric Glamour's "You Pay" keychain to end arguments over picking up the tab.

And for finding a fortune worth keeping, a bucket of cookies, plus a frame for the best one.

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I will add waaaaay down here, in an abashed moment of self-promotion, that I am the editor of a series of open-ended oracle decks written by Ellen Freeman and illustrated by Bethany van Rijswijk that are quite beautiful and interesting, if you happen to like mushrooms, flowers, seashells, fairy tales, rocks, cats, or space. Unlike tarot, these oracle decks do not offer traditional meanings, and they don't promise answers—instead, they are way to play with thoughts and ideas using imagery and scraps of myth, folklore, history, and science.

gifts for somewhat practical aesthetes

An efficient all-in-one hat and scarf by Xenia Telunts, available at Folk. 

A tree curtain by random clichés, for greenery that never needs watering.

Fleurs D'Hiver herbal tea lollipops, for a particularly lovely cup of tea.

An aluminum coffee pot by knindustrie, to add flourish to a daily ritual.

Kumihimo silk-braided eyewear straps by Noriko Yuki, for keeping readers close.

A minimalist cookie zine with just four recipes, each inspired by an artist: Halva af Klint, Sonia Dough-lanay, Anise Albers, and Almond Thomas.

A paper fan that recalls a sunlit forest canopy, for lo-fi a/c.

A spiraled basket made of coppiced willow by Rachel Bower Baskets, for corralling a collection of handmade wooden spoons.

A hand-drawn custom lampshade (or café curtains) by Swordbreaker Garments, for an artful glow.

An easy-to-find-at-the-bottom-of-bags Caro pen by Craighill, and an Ina Seifert lanyard to keep it (and keys) handy.

A chair by Cultivation Objects that recalls telephone seats, for texting and word games.

A cherry wood cable wrap by Naoto Yoshida, for keeping cords neat.

Miriam Murri's dog-waste bag dispenser for Alessi, for putting a little shine on a most unpleasant chore. 

A cheery and sturdy Hender Scheme tissue case, because tissue manufacturers seem driven to choose THE WORST patterns for tissue boxes. Why?!!!!