Every Page Begins With a Person

People often ask me how I make the handmade paper used in a Continuing Bonds journal.

The truth is, I don’t begin with paper.

I begin with a person.

Before I pull a single sheet, I want to know as much as I can about the loved one being remembered. I want to know what made them smile. What brought them comfort. What they cherished. What made them uniquely them.

Every journal begins with a story.

For my Mother’s journal, that story began with flowers.

My Mother loved African Violets.

As a child, I remember how carefully she cared for them. Their deep purple blooms sat in the house like little treasures. The leaves were incredibly delicate, and if my sisters or I came anywhere near them, we were reminded to tread lightly. They were among her favorite things, and she protected them with the same care she gave so many things in her life.

She also loved Magnolia blossoms.

When the Magnolia tree bloomed, its flowers seemed impossibly large. White petals touched with shades of purple would eventually fall to the ground, waiting for my sister and me to rake them during weekend chores.

But before they fell, my Mother admired them.

She loved their beauty.

Then there were the Roses.

Classic red roses.

My Mother cared for rose bushes that surrounded our home. She pruned them, fed them, and nurtured them until they produced enormous crimson blooms. Their fragrance greeted visitors before they ever stepped through the front door.

And of course, there were her Lilacs.

The aroma always made me sneeze, but it made my Mother smile.

Today, those same flowers bring memories rushing back to me.

That is where the paper begins.

When creating a batch of paper for my Mother’s journal, I start by blending dried Abaca fibers and Cotton Linter with water to create a pulp slurry. The blend is carefully chosen to create pages that are strong enough to last for generations while remaining smooth and inviting to write upon.

As the pulp reaches the proper consistency, I add dried Rose petals, African Violet blossoms, Magnolia buds, and Lilac flowers.

The flowers break apart into tiny pieces, creating a confetti-like effect throughout the pulp.

The pulp is then transferred into a vat of clean water where it is gently dispersed until the water resembles a silky cloud filled with speckles of color and memory.

Using a Mould and Deckle, I pull each sheet by hand.

One page.

One pull.

One moment at a time.

Each sheet is couched, transferred to a drying rack, and left to slowly release its moisture. Once partially dried, the sheets are placed between felts and pressed flat. After approximately forty-eight hours, they are inspected, stacked, and pressed again for final drying.

When the paper is completely dry, every page is individually inspected and hand burnished with glass to create a smooth writing surface.

This process is repeated for every page within the journal.

There are no shortcuts.

Because every page matters.

As I worked on my Mother’s journal, something unexpected happened.

I could see the flowers she loved.

I could touch them.

And sometimes, I could still smell them.

The African Violets.
The Magnolia blossoms.
The Roses.
The Lilacs.

The same things that brought joy to her life decades ago were now present within the pages resting in my hands.

And in some small way, so was she.

These flowers are only one part of my Mother’s story.

The pages that follow will also contain her handwriting, treasured recipe cards, photographs, and other meaningful pieces she left behind.

Because a Continuing Bonds journal is never simply about paper.

It is about preserving connection.

Every page begins with a person.

And every page carries part of their story forward.