19th century lady naturalist's pen and sketchbook

The delicate Victorian lady naturalist's pen and sketchbook above raises questions. I'm not sure if the rose is floating ethereally above the paper or is attached -- to the wall in an unseen bud vase? Probably it's floating ethereally because LADY NATURALISTS ARE AWESOME WITCHES.  

[The 10-best unsung female scientists.]

Here's how I record my urban nature natural history nature journal as a modern suburban mom wannabe Victorian natural historian: in a spiral notebook from Wal-Mart. I could do better. 

(I've been eyeing Field Note books because I admire their Steam Punk Film Noir marketing aesthetic.)

Have you seen Victorian lady naturalist Beatrix Potter's illustrations not of rabbits, goddamnit, enough already with the bunnies in pants! but of mushrooms? I learned about Beatrix Potter's mushroom illustrations from Brain Pickings in which Maria posted this 1885 photo of Potter with her pet mouse:

Some 19th century lady naturalists did have short hair!
(Probably when they were recovering from illness.)
(Here are a few of the many ways in the 1800s you could have died.) 

I find it heartening -- wings of the morning! tra-la! birdhouse in my soul! -- that I right now with my hair right now growing out from a buzzcut look exaaactly like this extremely unflattering photo of Beatrix Potter! Ladyfriends, just put me in a pleated black frock with a white lace collar!

It gives me hope that one day (in a year, give or take) I'll be able to Victorian lady naturalist natural history cosplay like a Gibson Girl.

Help my thin swan neck
cannot support this hair heap of the patriarchy
for much
longer.

In the mean time I'm making sketches in my Wal-Mart spiral wannabe 19th century lady naturalist's nature journal of some magnolia flowers that are blooming in the nearby abandoned suburban development's Grandiflora magnolia tree. Their scent is pure 1850s.