It’s an Opossum Fall 🍂🐀
Twelve autumn scenes in Midnight Gold. Every one has a name, a palette, and something to say for itself.
Three things done properly, instead of thirty done in a panic. Like an opossum carrying its babies — careful, deliberate, slightly overloaded.
Undated, print-at-home layouts for people whose weeks refuse to behave like a grid. Room for the mess, not just the meetings.
Botanical, a bit strange, mostly moths. Sized for frames you can actually buy, so nobody ends up crying at a framing shop.
Line work built to survive a cheap printer. Heavy enough to hold ink, open enough to leave you somewhere to go.
Free tools that make the day weigh less. Luna picks your one task; the rest is scaffolding for a brain that drifts.
Twelve autumn scenes in Midnight Gold. Every one has a name, a palette, and something to say for itself.
Tarot cards, mandalas, and annotated diagrams. Line work that survives any printer, and leaves you plenty of room to go outside the lines. The opossum does too.
The tools side of the studio. Free, no account, no ads — and whatever you write stays on your own device.
app.craftyopossum.studio
Because opossums are misunderstood, mildly feral, and very good at surviving. They play dead when things get bad, then get up and carry on. That felt about right.
Everything physical is made in this house: printed, die–cut, sewn down the spine and packed by hand. No warehouse, no print shop, nobody else. That’s why it takes a little longer, and why it doesn’t look like anything a machine made.
— Mona
Every package leaves this house — printed, die–cut, sewn down the spine and packed by hand, then walked to the post office like a small ceremony.
Con amorcito desde California.
