Cyanotype Ferns
I have a deep love for ferns, often discovering them during walks in Kananaskis or backcountry trips to British Columbia. Sometimes, I imagine myself as a tiny insect wandering among giant prehistoric ferns, a feeling that stirs something deep within me—almost as if it’s embedded in my DNA. Ferns also remind me of the Amazon and day hikes with my dad, where we’d be drenched by the rain and brushed by the dripping leaves of these lush plants.
I have a deep love for ferns, often discovering them during walks in Kananaskis or backcountry trips to British Columbia. Sometimes, I imagine myself as a tiny insect wandering among giant prehistoric ferns, a feeling that stirs something deep within me—almost as if it’s embedded in my DNA. Ferns also remind me of the Amazon and day hikes with my dad, where we’d be drenched by the rain and brushed by the dripping leaves of these lush plants.
I have a deep love for ferns, often discovering them during walks in Kananaskis or backcountry trips to British Columbia. Sometimes, I imagine myself as a tiny insect wandering among giant prehistoric ferns, a feeling that stirs something deep within me—almost as if it’s embedded in my DNA. Ferns also remind me of the Amazon and day hikes with my dad, where we’d be drenched by the rain and brushed by the dripping leaves of these lush plants.
