Monday, May 25, 2015

Chrysalis Heart Clutch

As the mother of a three year old I am learning doubly firsthand that we are not born 
all there, all blossomed. We arrive at our ripeness in varying stages,
and for each soul a completely unique time.

Some say their 'glory days' were high school,
while someone else might regale you with tales of painful awkward teenage ostracism.

I think the twenties were a time of god-awful fumbling, but I have friends who sigh over white wine
and wish that they would miraculously be plopped back into that oversexed 
discovery zone.

For each embodied soul, a time comes when they hatch out of that ever-thinning 
clock-cloak, dry their wings and take off in a way that they never conceived they could.

I think that my own Monarch heart is a few years off from that cosmic right-time.
It's something to do with early motherhood and the understanding that this utterly dependent (though ever less so) kid is not always going to be small and needy.

Someday I will not be stealing away to studio time like a lover
or missing those wrist rolls already;
grieving the tiny changes that will make my son a man
while wishing I could make more time to take care of my damn self.

If you've already flown I hope you are still alight in that just-right place,
savoring the freedom of those colorful wings every single day

but if you sense, like me, that your bursting-forth is approaching like Christmas morning
then I say from this same place

to take heart, friend!!!!
For all the days that you find yourself wrapped in the sheath of limit
find the wiggle room: list the gifts.
Be grateful and prepare your whole life
for big miracles!

I believe in our constant and hard-won evolution,
that we were born to get bigger and better
and to let love win as often as we can.

I believe in the beauty of our chrysalis hearts, beating wildly against the 
white bones of the rib cage

and I know that in all the ways they grow and change that they are thrumming
and alive with pulse and grace
forever and ever

The Chrysalis Heart clutch will be in the 


Made entirely of veg-tanned tooling leather (double milled for the body)
and dyed by me!
Lined with dark grey pig suede.
Inlaid with two mirrored slices of mookaite wrapped in fine and sterling silvers.
riveted, stitched and snapped securely.
Two hand rests for a more secure carry.
Painted with high-flow acrylic in bold sweet colors.

Made with tender love and prayer in California.


Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Warm Weather Beauty for You


Sweet Heart of Summer Cuff. Indian Ricegrass. Pepper Flower. Cool purple-flash Moonstone.
Thick and light, just like late-afternoon heat.


Libra Earrings. Polished Quartz. Brass. Conch shell tulip. Baltic Amber. Sleeping Beauty Turquoise. Peridot.

Reverse Entropy Earrings. Pinned Carnelian slice, long and lean. Labradorite. Wait till you see its 'other'...

Hanging Garden Earrings, Faceted Quartz Edition. Carved Mother of Pearl layered flowers. Sterling chain drape

Hanging Garden Earrings. Carved Mother of Pearl. Polished Quartz. Sterling silver.

All of these beautiful things will be in the 

tomorrow around noon

Just a note about future grouped offerings, like earrings and such: there may be very little for a while beyond a few custom slots
and a few gorgeous leather bags. Some necklaces that have been half-made and wanting more.

I'll absolutely keep you posted here when things come to fruition, but mostly the next few months will be the tying up of loose ends, designs that I've long wanted to complete,
pieces people have been deeply patient about.

And then a much-deserved break. 

Have a gorgeous day!


Monday, May 4, 2015

Without Getting Away

"Hi, little Artist.
Hi, often-depleted maker and worker bee.
Dinner chef.

Know-er of Right Things.
Rarely in compliance with The Refill.

Tell me: how do you constantly give such loving, empowering advice to your friends and leave yourself in the lurch?"

That's what my Big Artist asked me yesterday when I decided to stay home from a trip up Niles Canyon with my boys.
I reasoned that I could get more studio hours in if I was solitary, that I might even sneak out to the hammock and sun-bake for fifteen minutes.
I reasoned.
My heart, on the other hand, was aching.
These are memories I cannot re-get later in life when the boy is more boy than babe.
I cannot re-see my handsome mate in the antique passenger car,
I cannot feel the ghost of my Uncle Walter with each train whistle
I cannot be five again
if I am by my self
at home

I write this over my morning coffee, refreshed and inspired.
I write this with the smell of oil smoke on yesterday's laundry pile
and a flutter in my heart when I think of my husband.
I write this knowing that anytime you take on an adventure there is a handshake with Life. 
We are train people, we should be on trains often.

A glorious unexpected gift: hexa web mixed-grade star sapphires in blues, purples and greys
at an unassuming antique store.
They are so astounding in the palm of my hand.

So to you, reading this:

where is your rut?
Is it so comfortable that you don't even know that you're halfway down your well-worn path again?
Can you lose your sensibility for an afternoon or a night?

I write to you from the other side of my usual coin
with a happy assurance that you refill more wells
than you ever could
if you stayed home:

what do you get
without getting away?


Wednesday, April 29, 2015

First Bloom and a Trinity

The roses are in first bloom right now
and this evening I had the presence of mind to take my best camera out
and capture some of the vibrant life
right in our back yard.

We blew bubbles and went 'fishing', which consisted of sitting in a tall dirt planter
with tomato stakes hanging over the edge, talking about what kind of fish were 'dowm' there.

Everywhere I looked, Beauty.
Every breath, blessed and weary:
by the end of the day I tend to envision a finish line
and I am determined to cross it.

To be gentle with myself for the less than stellar moments
and smile at the amazing and weird ways my son puts the English language to work.
He is vastly creative
and very serious,
except when he's not
and then it's all silliness and running.

I want to run more with him.
I will add that to my awesomely long list of things to do:
'run more with Orion'
because heaven knows
that list is my Spirit Animal.

In practically french-kissing my studio every time I walked in this week I made some
of the most sumptuous and potent earrings.
Just three pairs, but I like trinities and harmonies in thirds,
so it's just right.

They'll be




Thursday, April 16, 2015

Honoring Tenderness: a collection.

Feathered Nest Necklace. American Turquoise. Conch rose and dewdrops. Draped chain.

Hanging Garden Earrings, Large

Hanging Garden earrings, small.

Jacaranda Seed Slip Posts.

Abundance Necklace. Mother of Pearl. Quartz. Lunaria Plant.

In the



Sunday, April 5, 2015

Begin Again.

Driving and crying

All the way home from Oakland
because the young engraver you so thoroughly vetted (i.e. know nothing about beyond his stellar work)
totally ditched your lesson.

This was the day in which you were going to invest money to learn the use of your Lindsay Graver,
the one you've had since your first mother's day three years ago.
The one that is wasting under your leather bench,
the one that would make life so much easier.
Three years of some day

You get home and you call your mentor, chin wobbling.
You ask if she knows anyone who can help and as always she has answers,

You send a few emails.
Panic hovers for some reason, still.
Your mentor texts you an Instagram picture of the guy who was supposed to teach you today,
half naked behind his girlfriend. Posted this hour.
You feel stupid and suddenly old.

All of this resistance, all of these little pressures,
the doorway.

You gather the manuals.
Your husband reads their Greek and translates them into English.

You are all plugged in. 
Hug his neck, that kind and patient man.
Thank him for this gift given three years ago.

Haltingly at first, you engrave.
Get bolder.
See a ballerina dancing on a crescent moon.
Let it be chicken scratch.
Let it look kinda rough,
with a twisted foot and a crab hand,
please let those things be.
Let yourself get out from underneath the critic
long enough to play.

That smile?
Hard won.
That joy?
Beginner's joy.

Suddenly hungry,
suddenly uncorked.

All of this to say: when things fail, when resistance threatens to keep everything caged
just keep breathing, keep trying and keep taking baby steps relentlessly
and despite.
Don't let things not going the way you think they should keep you from
doing what you've longed dreamed.

Always and forever,


Thursday, April 2, 2015

The Blossoming


is full this afternoon.

It has blossomed,
like our peachy roses,
like my son's flushed and fevered cheeks…

I listed everything this afternoon as he napped
and then spent hours fussing over him and being cuddled.
Now he watches Winnie the Pooh and I write, trying so hard to communicate what sometimes feels so easy.
I have in the past steamed out work and listings like mad: meaningful, friendly work that just flowed…
now everything feels precious, "My God, I made seven pairs of earrings!!" like I 
built a house. A tiny, delicately-strong bejeweled house.

Whew. I ought to make myself some iced tea.

It's the height of clear beautiful days here right now in Northern California,
sweet and frightfully dry, the sun giving us a bit more day to savor.
One year of water left, tick tick tick.

In every area of life the lovely and the hard
are married and so precariously, lovingly balanced.
Or not at all balanced.

I have beauty to share today and that's enough.
More than enough.