blackish rose

i have been enjoying frankenstitching, and the beginnings and prospect of 250-some episodes of murder, she wrote on netflix, but recording the bead process is taking bloggy precedence.




we've had to modify the original recipe, which called for grinding and drying the petals for two weeks. the consistency was supposed to be a paste, but instead it was a fine powder. maybe caused by something fishy that they do to commercially-grown roses so we switched to another recipe that calls for simmering the ground petals for an hour. they plumped right up and after a few days of this, mum has deemed them the right consistency for rolling.



this is the rose water strained off after simmering. the aroma is heady, dazzling! and the wolf moon was full last night, too.

i loved the line at the bottom of this blog entry by ms uncertainty principles, where i found myself thanks to jude, "NOSTALGIA IS INTOXICATION."