Gifts

Apache Bouquet Agate, Rarest of the Rare

I stood for a long time this morning inside the kitchen window, inhaling the smell of the rain's first drops

of the earth just wet

and the plants sighing

after all the heat.

Condor Agate 

It's not quite the same punch and tobacco as the smell of a midwestern thunderboomer,

but it soothes just the same.

Unknown Porcelain Jasper 

My heart of late is so beaten up with loving so deeply

so stretched in its growing that I feel compelled to ice it;

to freeze and close up for the winter,

for protection.

I hear howling in the distance: I know there is evil in the world.

When I am so utterly spent I turn to the wheels,

to the Earth.

The above cabochon (some sort of unnamed porcelain jasper (Paiute?)

I got at Chapman's Gem and Mineral Shop on the 101 right before I dove into lapidary)

took two years to finish.

I remember with a smile how I could not for the life of me grasp the concept of the dome,

of the little ledge, too on the side of the stone...

when I finally understood after Ed's patient teaching 

it was like a lifeline to something

so freeing I cannot even explain it.

Putting the final shaping and polish on her felt surreal

and good.

I felt better.

Braver somehow.

.

Priday Moss Agate, High Dome

Sometimes when I cab I am holding my breath, willing that perfect picture to make it through the grinding and polishing

hoping that what the strong grits reveal in an agate is even more amazing than the surface design:

it's kind of like a mini-gamble -

the healed fracture,

the colorful banding

the plume that sits too close to the surface of the Priday...

And sometimes I breathe, Ujjayi-style

buried beneath my ear protection.

Polka Dot Agate

Of late I've been loving the rectangular shape 

and I am trying to perfect a design that has a faceted look, but with a gentle rounding of the edges that faceting makes sharp:

a hybrid, really.

Yesterday, as he does every weekend, Anthony scooped up the 

Tiny One and gave me free reign to work in between Milks.

There is soldering to be done, but my heart wasn't there at that bench...

there was leatherwork to pour myself into but I felt it, too could wait.

Prudent Man Agate

The call of these little miracles you see is what won without contest;

a barely discernable chorded hum (1,3,5) that they emit

when you hold them in your palm, 

when you wear them wrapped in sterling, fine silver and gold

when you see them in the rough:

"Let us heal you,"they sing

and so they do.

xoxo,

Sunny