An Earlier Chapter: A Handmade Bird Journal in Blue & Gray

Sometimes an older piece of work becomes a little record of where we were creatively at the time we made it.

I was thinking about that recently while looking through one of my earlier handmade junk journals—a soft, wonderfully grungy book filled with birds, blue and gray papers, botanical impressions, rust marks, and some of the techniques I was just beginning to explore.

It is very different from some of the journals I make now.

And I think that may be one of the things I like most about it.

When the Materials Begin the Story

One of my favorite things about making junk journals has always been discovering that something ordinary doesn't necessarily have to remain ordinary.

The cover of this journal began with something particularly humble: a padded Amazon packaging envelope.

I combined the packaging material with two layers of cardstock to create a cover that is softer than the covers on many of my later journals. The padded material also gives it a slightly crinkly, crunchy sound when handled—one of those tactile little details that photographs simply can't capture.

The outside was sealed for additional protection, which deepened the original brown color of the packaging and gave it an aged appearance.

An upcycled cotton ribbon wraps around the finished journal, while a simple three-hole pamphlet stitch holds the pages together.

Blue, Gray and the Marks Left by Nature

The colors inside became an important part of this journal's personality.

Blue and gray travel through the book alongside warm coffee-stained browns and naturally aged neutrals. Purchased bird imagery and decorative ephemera appear among the pages, helping carry that quiet palette from one section to another.

But some of my favorite pages weren't created with printed designs at all.

Several are eco-printed papers made using bougainvillea flowers. The flowers were pressed against the paper and heated, allowing the plant material to leave behind soft gray impressions and ghostlike botanical shapes.

They aren't precise botanical illustrations. Nature decided where the marks would appear and exactly what they would look like.

That unpredictability is part of their beauty.

Other papers were dyed with blueberries and coffee, adding another layer of natural variation to the book.

There are also pages created by placing rusty objects against paper and allowing the rust to leave its own marks behind.

I love the way these processes give paper a history before a single word has been written on it.

Looking Back at Earlier Work

This was one of my earlier journals, and I can see that when I look through it now.

My work has changed. I've learned new techniques, experimented with different bindings and materials, and gradually added more of my own painted artwork to some of my newer journals.

But I don't think that makes these earlier books less meaningful.

Quite the opposite.

They show the experimenting.

The what happens if I try this?

The willingness to put a rusty object on a piece of paper just to see what kind of mark it might leave, or to discover what happens when flowers, berries, coffee, old packaging, paper, and thread all find their way into the same book.

Creative work doesn't arrive fully formed. It grows through all those experiments.

A Place for Another Story

The finished journal measures approximately 8½ × 5½ inches and contains 51 pages, with pockets, tucked ephemera, dyed papers, decorative pages, and quieter spaces waiting for someone else to continue the story.

Many of the removable pieces are held with paperclips that I altered to give them an aged, rusted appearance, adding another little detail to the worn and weathered feeling of the book.

The printed bird images and much of the decorative ephemera came from purchased digital designs and craft materials. I always think that distinction is important: the printed artwork isn't my original artwork. My part of the story is in selecting, altering, dyeing, assembling, layering, binding, and combining all of these different materials into one handmade book.

There is something rather appropriate about a bird journal being made this way.

Bits and pieces gathered from different places. Something discarded here, something beautiful discovered there. Natural materials leaving their marks. Little treasures collected and carried back to become part of a new home.

Perhaps junk journal makers and birds have a little more in common than I realized.

This particular bird journal is available in my shop, where you can also see additional photographs and the video flip-through for a closer look through its pages.

Wings in the Weathered Woods – Handmade Bird Junk Journal | Eco Printed, Rust Printed & Naturally Dyed Papers

Whether this journal eventually becomes someone's writing journal, memory keeper, collage book, or simply a handmade object to enjoy, I like knowing that an earlier chapter of my own creative journey will become the beginning of someone else's.

And perhaps that is one of the loveliest things about making books.

We finish making them—but their stories don't necessarily end with us.

Co-hosting You're the Star Blog Hop Home Feature Week

 Hope everyone had a relaxing weekend I can't wait to see what everyone has been posting so link up at the end. But first, here is one from my blog this last week:

When New Paper Learns to Look Old | At the Worktable

 

WELCOME to Week#4 of the August 2026 "You're the Star" Blog Hop!

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WELCOME to HOME feature week of the August 2026 "You're the STAR" blog hop!

Meet your hosts

This week is HOME feature week
Swing by the hosts' Blogs:

Lisa @ At Home With Lisa

Kris @ Kris and Larry . com

Angie @ God's Growing Garden

Colleen @ Butterfly in the Attic

Michelle @ Moms Are Frugal

This is a month long Linky party featuring YOU!

There will be 4 different features each week and 4 different feature categories.  Just to be clear - this is NOT a themed party - you may link up ANY family-friendly blog posts any day of each month. 
The "theme" occurs in our weekly features:
WEEK#4 HOME - recipes, home décor, antique/DIY &/or travel (this can include anything about your home - even history posts - all while remaining family friendly)

(All features were chosen from the July 2026 "You're the Star" blog hop)

"Aging" My Faux Brick Wall by Debbie-Dabble Blog

Southern Tomato & Cracker Salad by Carol on the Lake

Remodeled Primary Bath and Other Bathrooms by Cindy's On-Line Recipe Box

Lemon Cheesecake with Lemon Curd & Blueberry Sauce by Scratch Made Food

If you've been featured then please grab a STAR button below:

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All Hosts/CoHosts will post this blog hop on every Monday of each week.

Please link up your family friendly blog posts below!

It wouldn't be a linky party with YOU!

(IMPORTANT NOTE: by linking up you understand that you might be featured next month and if so, we will use some of your photos from your post - rest assured - we will always link back to your lovely blog.  We might also share your fantastic posts on social media.  Also, you may link up as many family-friendly posts as you like & YES - other blog hops &/or giveaways are welcome {giveaways and blog hops will NOT be featured though}  Thank You & ENJOY! )

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The Beautiful Things We Almost Throw Away

What Kintsugi, imperfect paper, and an old autumn journal reminded me about making things by hand.

There is a Japanese art called Kintsugi in which broken pottery is repaired with lacquer and gold. Instead of disguising the cracks, the repair draws attention to them. The history of the object becomes part of its beauty.

I have always loved that idea.

And lately, while working with hand-dyed papers and finishing an autumn junk journal, I realized how often the same idea finds its way into my own work.

Not with gold. Sometimes with coffee. Sometimes tea. Sometimes onion skins or dye. Sometimes with a piece of paper that came out of the process looking nothing like I expected.
And sometimes with an old book that has already lived a life before it ever reaches my worktable.

A Little Gold in the Cracks

Kintsugi isn't really about pretending something was never broken. That is what makes it so beautiful to me.

The break happened. The repair happened. And instead of erasing either one, the finished piece carries both.

I think handmade things can be a little like that.

When we work with natural materials, old books, vintage papers, fabric, paint and dye, we are working with things that have histories and personalities of their own. They don't always behave perfectly.
And perhaps they shouldn't.

Paper Has a Mind of Its Own

Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

I have been doing a great deal of paper dyeing lately, and one thing becomes obvious very quickly: paper has a mind of its own.

Coffee settles differently from one sheet to another. Tea leaves soft variations. Onion skins can create unexpected marks and impressions. Dye travels into fibers in ways I couldn't reproduce exactly even if I tried.

Sometimes a stencil leaves a beautiful pattern. Sometimes the paper picks up the texture of something it rested against. Sometimes the most interesting part of the sheet is something I never intended to happen at all.

I could look at those variations as flaws. Instead, I think they are evidence.
Evidence that a person made the paper. Evidence that water moved across it, dye settled into it, bubbles rested and burst against it, and the materials were allowed to participate in the outcome.
No two sheets are quite the same because the process itself is alive with variables.

Then There Was the Old Book

That idea became especially meaningful while I was making my large autumn junk journal.

Rendered editorial image created to closely represent my handmade Autumn Junk Journal. For photographs of the actual journal and its individual details, please see the product listing
Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

The journal began with an old vintage book.

I kept portions of the original book, including the first two and last two pages, and built the new journal around the life that was already there.

Inside are 90 pages filled with layers of old and new: naturally dyed coffee and tea papers, onion-skin patterned paper, richly dyed cranberry and dark green pages, printed digitals, handmade embellishments, watercolor paintings, painted journal cards and tags, hand-painted leaves and other little details gathered together into one very full book.

Some of those pages are wonderfully unpredictable.

Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

There are six watercolor paintings tucked among the pages, along with other painted pieces and handmade elements. They aren't there simply to decorate the book. They help make turning the pages feel a little like wandering.

You never quite know what the next page will hold.

There Is a Difference Between Carelessness and Imperfection

This distinction matters to me.

Handmade should not mean careless.

I want the things I make to be thoughtfully constructed. I care about the materials, the details and how everything comes together.

But thoughtful handmade work does not have to mean machine-perfect work.
One of the pages in this journal illustrates that beautifully.

Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

A few pages were affected during dyeing. Two have corners that are missing or rounded, and another has a more jagged edge.

I considered leaving them out.

But the more I looked at them, the more I realized those imperfect edges brought something to the journal that a perfectly cut page couldn't.

They added to the rustic charm I was trying to capture—the feeling of something that has been kept, handled and loved. They reminded me of the things we rediscover from autumns past: an old book with softened corners, a well-worn recipe, a pressed leaf tucked between pages, or some small treasure saved because of the memories attached to it.

Suddenly, those imperfect corners didn't feel like something I needed to remove. They helped create the sense of nostalgia I wanted this journal to hold.

So they stayed.

Not hidden. Not apologized for. Simply allowed to become part of the story.

Maybe the Evidence Is Part of the Story

The cranberry-dyed pages are another example.

Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

The color moves across the paper. The pattern isn't mechanically uniform. There are darker areas and lighter ones.

Those variations tell you how the page was made.

And then there is one of my favorites—the onion-skin paper.

Autumn Whispers — Handmade Autumn Junk Journal

For this paper, I actually left the onion skins against the sheet so they could make their own impressions.

The result isn't a printed pattern pretending to be natural. It is natural.

The marks came from the material itself.

That seems like such a small distinction, but I think it is part of what makes handmade work feel different when you hold it.

You can see the process. Sometimes you can almost reconstruct what happened at the worktable simply by looking closely enough.

And maybe that is why Kintsugi has been on my mind.

We spend so much time being taught to remove evidence.

Hide the crack. Trim away the uneven edge. Discard the page that behaved differently. Start over until no one can tell that human hands were ever involved.

But what if some of that evidence is exactly what gives an object its character?

What if the unexpected stain, softened corner, uneven edge or old book page isn't something standing between us and the finished piece?

What if it is part of the finished piece?

I don't think that means everything imperfect is automatically beautiful. But I do think there are beautiful things we almost throw away because we are looking at them only for what went wrong instead of noticing what happened.

And sometimes what happened is much more interesting.

So I am going to keep making room for those pages. For the old books. For the strange marks. For the edges that tell on themselves. For the materials that refuse to behave exactly the same way twice.
Kintsugi may use gold to honor the history of an object.

Around here, sometimes all it takes is deciding that the history was worth keeping.

Until next time,
Colleen
Butterfly in the Attic

It’s the Little Things | Friday From the Attic

From the Hidden Drawer Collection

There are some things in a creative space that are very easy to overlook.  They aren't the beautiful paper you bought because you simply couldn't leave it behind. They aren't the old book you've been saving for exactly the right project. They aren't the ribbons, the lace, the wonderful old photographs, or even that particularly lovely pair of scissors that somehow makes cutting paper more enjoyable. They're the little things. The tiny bits and pieces that sit in jars, drawers, dishes and boxes waiting for the moment when you suddenly realize: That's exactly what this needs.

I've always loved those little things. A tiny clip. An interesting fastener. A bit of thread. A button. A scrap of something that doesn't seem particularly important until it finds its way onto a journal page. And lately, I've been spending quite a bit of time thinking about them.

A Little Shelf for the Little Things

From the Hidden Drawer Collection

As I've been building From the Hidden Drawer, I realized there needed to be a place for these small creative details. Not everything belongs in a grand category. Some things are simply useful. Some are decorative. Some are a little bit of both. And some exist mainly because they make a project more interesting. So I've given them their own little shelf: Little Fixings.

It's a place for small handmade embellishments and useful bits—the kinds of things that can fasten, attach, decorate or simply add one more layer of personality to a handmade project. The first things finding their way onto the shelf are decorative paper fasteners. And I've been having far too much fun making them.

 

Ordinary Little Fasteners, Made Less Ordinary

I love taking something familiar and asking what else it could become. 

A simple paper fastener is useful enough on its own. But add a tiny autumn leaf... Or a soft little pom-pom... Or a miniature Christmas light bulb... and suddenly it isn't merely holding two pieces of paper together anymore. It's part of the page.

That's the sort of detail I love in handmade books and journals. Not necessarily something that announces itself from across the room, but something you discover when you pick the piece up and begin looking closely. A little surprise.

And perhaps that's what I like most about making these. They're small enough to play with. There doesn't have to be a complicated plan. You can add one to the corner of a tag, use one to fasten a little flap, tuck one into a journal cover, attach something that moves, or simply put one somewhere because it makes you smile. Creative work needs room for that, too.

 

From the Hidden Drawer Collection

The Drawer Is Beginning to Fill

Little Fixings is starting small, but I don't expect it to stay that way. There are already different styles appearing on the worktable, and I have a feeling more will follow as I discover tiny things that make me think, I wonder if I could turn that into a fastener...

That may prove to be a dangerous thought. Especially for someone who already has a difficult time passing up interesting little objects. But that's part of what From the Hidden Drawer is meant to be. Not a perfectly planned collection where everything has to fit neatly into place before it can appear. More like opening an old drawer and discovering what has accumulated there over time. Useful things. Beautiful things. Curious things. And occasionally something you had completely forgotten you owned.

A Little Thought for Friday

From the Hidden Drawer Collection

Maybe that's also a good thought to carry into the weekend. Not every creative moment has to begin with a big idea. Sometimes all it takes is one little thing. A scrap of paper. A forgotten button. A bit of ribbon. A tiny fastener. Something sitting on the corner of your table that makes you wonder: What could I do with this?

And then you follow the thought and see where it goes. Those little moments count. In fact, sometimes they're where the best ideas begin.

Until next time,
Colleen
Butterfly in the Attic

When New Paper Learns to Look Old | At the Worktable

 At the Worktable with the Grungy Halloween Owl Tags

There is something wonderfully contradictory about spending so much time making something new look as though it has already lived a very long life.

That was certainly the case with these little owl tags.

They began with old book pages — not one layer, but four, folded and glued together to give each tag some substance. From there, I started building the surface little by little: ink around the edges, modeling and crackle paste worked through stencils, and layers of alcohol ink that settled into all those raised and uneven places.

And somewhere along the way, they stopped looking like pieces I had just made at my worktable.

They began to look found.

That is always one of my favorite moments.

Grungy Halloween Owl Journal Tags on Shopify

The Beauty Is in the Layers

When I make something grungy or timeworn, I don't really want the aging to look like decoration sitting on top of the paper. I want it to feel as though it happened there.

A darkened edge by itself can make paper look older. But add a little texture, a crack running through the surface, color caught unevenly in the crevices, a loose thread and a piece of ragged fabric, and suddenly there is a history that wasn't there before.

Of course, we know that history is imaginary.

But isn't that part of the fun?

These tags were made in four different finishes — Weathered Stone, Haunted Verdigris, Faded Ledger, and Rust & Ruin — and although they began the same way, the layers gave each pair its own personality.

And Then Came the Owls

Each set has two owls, one orange and one black, tucked into little nests of black thread.

I could have stopped there.

Naturally, I didn't.

There are torn pieces of coffee-dyed fabric and cheesecloth, tiny metal fasteners and all of those deliberately imperfect edges and surfaces that make me want to pick something up and look a little closer.

The backs are finished with coffee-dyed writing paper, because I wanted these to remain useful tags rather than becoming purely decorative pieces. There is still room for a name, a note, a bit of journaling or whatever story their eventual owner decides they should carry.

And I think that may be what I like most about making pieces like these.

I can give them the beginning of a story, but I don't have to give them the ending.

From the Hidden Drawer

The finished owl tags have now found their way into The Hidden Drawer, which seems like exactly the right place for them.

They look a little weathered, a little mysterious and perhaps as though somebody tucked them away years ago and forgot about them.

Except, of course, I know better.

I remember the book pages.

I remember the glue.

I remember the paste and the ink and the threads and all the layers that came before those wonderfully grungy little owls finally looked as though they had been waiting years to be found.

Sometimes making something old begins with making something new.

And then you just have to give it a little history.

Until next time,
Colleen
Butterfly in the Attic