A celebration of some of the CryptoNaturalist's favorite virtues!
Art By: Cody Maynard, owner of Lucky Gauntlet Art Club.
@LuckyGauntletArtClub on Instagram.
Vultures are holy creatures.
Tending the dead.
Bowing low.
Bared head.
Whispers to cold flesh,
“Your old name is not your king.
I rename you ‘Everything.’”
Poetry by Jarod K. Anderson.
Design by @bluefurydesign on Instagram.
Vultures are holy creatures.
Tending the dead.
Bowing low.
Bared head.
Whispers to cold flesh,
“Your old name is not your king.
I rename you ‘Everything.’”
Poetry by Jarod K. Anderson.
Design by @bluefurydesign on Instagram.
Bats can hear shapes. Plants can eat light. Bees can dance maps. We can hold all these ideas at once and feel both heavy and weightless with the absurd beauty of it all.
A storm shark. Bigger than a dozen city blocks. More mountain than animal. Half meteorological phenomenon and half living creature. It rose up out of the storm below like a breaching whale and I saw it plainly silhouetted against the lighter clouds above. Design by George Foster. Visit George's website: 1214adesign.com Learn more about The CryptoNaturalist at: www.cryptonaturalist.com
If you write out the basic facts of trees, but framed as technology, it sounds like impossible sci-fi nonsense. Self-replicating, solar-powered machines that synthesize carbon dioxide and rainwater into oxygen and sturdy building materials on a planetary scale. www.cryptonaturalist.com
An ant crosses your carpet. A spider weaves a pattern older than mammals beneath your stairs. Just nod, breathe, and think, “Good. It’s all still here. The forest, the mountains, the desert. At home in my home.” The sterile white box is the stranger. Not the ant. Not the spider. www.cryptonaturalist.com
Ah, yes. Remember those halcyon days of camp in the perpetual summer of the hidden forest. Where the trees are always green, the year is always 1987, and the cryptids are just as eager to learn about you as you are to learn about them. www.cryptonaturalist.com
Ah, yes. Remember those halcyon days of camp in the perpetual summer of the hidden forest. Where the trees are always green, the year is always 1987, and the cryptids are just as eager to learn about you as you are to learn about them. www.cryptonaturalist.com