The Best Nest Heirloom Clutch.

It is complete.

The clutch that was years in the making is now complete.

With its last stitch in place I just wanted to yodel.

I wanted to yodel something German and jubilant.

Sadly I studied French instead and though I can sing I most assuredly cannot yodel, not even an approximation.

I settled for turning it over again and again in my palms with my heart ablaze, wondering at its delicate strength.

The most arresting feature beside the blossoms of varying color and depth

is the double-inlay nest.

We read "The Best Nest" and "Are You my Mother?" around here nearly every night

and surely having a baby will put it in a designer's mind to work a nest in something somewhere

but truly, this nest IS best.

It is a nest for memories still unlived, moments not yet crystallized.

Can you imagine the beauty of a life that begins tucked in the midst of outrageous florals?

Great things will come of those two egglets, I just know it!!

The amount of tooling and color involved is this heirloom beauty is staggering. Drunkenly staggering.

Dry-out-overnight-in-here-guy staggering.

With my maker's mark sweetly secreted away behind the inside edge

and the rose-violet suede lining so scalloped and pretty

this extra long (13.5 inches!) clutch sings a summer song.

I can also hear in it the song of decades and centuries. This is one for the precious moments, the one that Gran gives her girliest grand-girl along with the stories of that first date with Poppa

and the wishes for her own joys to be stashed in its softness.

The prom

the romantic getaways

the please-forgive-me-honey dinners while the babysitter stays up

the milestone moments of a life.

Before it belongs to someone these memories remain in utero

a thing to be cracked open to the light of life's infinite possibilities

And this lush work of art becomes the best nest for their waiting life.

Practically pregnant with possibilities.

If it is yours may it yield you ten thousand joys for the taking

and if you've just come to look and run your eyes over the rich dimension of the carving and tooling

may all the things represented in this creation be yours

as energy travels without fail to its match. 

It is perched

HERE.

xoxox,

A

Little Lift Watercolor on Enamel Butterfly Wing Necklaces, Tropical Edition.

Kamehameha Butterfly Wing Necklace

RESERVED

Hammer Formed Irridescent Butterfly Wing Necklace

Vibrant Moth Wing Necklace 

.

.

.

All three necklaces are made using a gorgeous, meditative technique using layer after layer of watercolor and firing in the kiln. It is not for the impatient.

Each wing is paired with beautiful hand-fabricated 'twig and dew' lengths and handmade swing bails.

A tremendous amount of time and love went into each necklace and they are filled with prayers for lift and freedom.

A portion of each sale will go to benefit Half The Sky.

All three are available for reserve

HERE

and should anything not get snapped up I will be listing 

tomorrow night.

I send you the fondest thoughts on this lovely Tuesday night.

xoxoxox,

Sunny

Some Days Are Like This Part II

Some Days Are Like This:

Your husband cannot sleep under the weight of a deadline,

of days eaten up with meetings

and so he rises before the sun and sets out for the office.

You somehow scrounge together some brushed teeth, two contact in your eyes to see

and a shower that took place thanks to the mercy of the Peekaboo Gods (Praise Be (ka-boo))

.

You slept too little again after the again and again of days like wildfire

so hot and fast that you cannot remember the date and you panic over future events

as though they've snuck up

imminent

like a surprise partygoer from behind a couch.

Phew: it's not two weeks from now. It is today.

A trip to the grocery store goes like it should

and as a treat you buy yourself a rare expensive latte because you are so very tired

and it is deserved

dammit

Setting it on the bedside table and readying the room for your sweet little's nap you turn around to find it on the floor in a fawn colored lake beside the bed.

A tangle of cords and plugs mere inches away, centimeters above.

You put your son in the crib so that he will be safe and he wails and rends his garments and gnashes his teeth so biblically that you might at certain points have expected to see some sort of avenging angel above, taking up his plight.

One thrice-soaked-and rinsed towel, some Mrs. Meyers and the dust of a few years has been cleaned from everything within a five foot radius of the spill. Though the cleaning was thorough the room smells tauntingly like a really good latte.

Dammit.

Now completely riled up, small person's nap is fitful and brief.

Having entered a new phase of sleep-related woes and victories

one does not know the terrain of this new place

and feels queasy at the prospect of losing routine....

again.

**(Shut it, seasoned moms...I know. I know.

Never get used to anything...

Appreciate every moment 

it will pass too quickly.

I hear you

I hear you in my sleep

I hear you and listen in these challenging days and I take my cranky son and smell the top of his head

and close my eyes. Breathe.

Tick tock tick please stop, clock...yes, even the fussing must last.

I catalogue the moment in honor of you.

And I love it.)**

Taking stock of the day you 

realize that everything is a wash. You are bloated, tired and weepy.

Head to the kitchen.

It is the land of math.

It is the place where x + y = x + y

and balance restores itself in tin cups and binding proteins.

You make a cheesecake. Crustless. With Farmer's Cheese. It turns out shitty but that doesn't even matter.

2/3 cup of sugar

16 ozs. cream cheese (it was the substitution that did me in, texture - ick)

some other stuff

Bake at 350 for some amount of time

and voila....

cheesecake

.

A something to show for the day.

I was here.

I made this.

No matter that during the final diaper change of the day

your son will take a handful of poop

and spread it like Johnny Appleseed over the whole continent of every cloth within reaching distance,

effectively creating a desperate load of laundry

and an impromptu bathtime for you both

and that after you will find yourself 

using your baby to cover your nakedness having forgotten that the picture window 

that opens to the street is still unshuttered

from before the Poopening.

No matter that his normally peaceful nighttime slumber is replaced by nearly a full hour of recriminations before blessed sleep descends

or that on the scoreboard of your motherhood experience the home team lost hard today

and looked disheveled as all hell while doing that

because

during a pocket of sweetness

you sang Joni Mitchell songs to your son while he tossed

recipe cards in the air

and he showed you those two bottom teeth that will have lots of compatriots soon.

Too soon.

You put aside your to-do list and betterment books

and read a Woody Guthrie novel while waiting for the fussiest to give in to that apparently unconvincing Sandman...

You chucked all the 'shoulds' and made an awful cheesecake

with your favorite person under thirty six inches

and when grey licks your temples and cartwheels turn to car wheel through the town

 instead of the spills and grabs and failures you'll remember

The wonder of the mixer through fresh eyes

sunlight on milk amber curls

the comforting weight of sugar in a cup

sweet as a sigh

and gone just as soon.

xoxo,

Mama

Man Of Many Moods, Part III

All of them delightful, even the ever-more-frequent meltdowns.

May 20th, 2013

.

xoxo,

Mama

Sweet Little Things

(Carpenter Bee Wing Necklace HERE)

Schmilly and I just sat at the kitchen table and talked about our true reality after dinner and a West Wing episode.

We both have been enjoying Orion with such a passion that we yearn for another child

and yet we understand ourselves to be best as parents of one.

One amazing outrageously special boy.

Our capacity for chaos as two introverts is limited.

My work is so like a living thing that I already feel like a mother of more.

It was beautiful, our talk.

It was so bittersweet to come to the conclusion that if we were other people we'd do things differently

and to laugh through our misty eyes about the things we've done well and terribly.

We were the best of ourselves showing up for a meeting over Nutella out of the jar 

and bare feet up on the chairs.

I love that man. 

I also loved this week. I finally got the use my hollow form skills I learned from Alison Antelman a few months ago.

I paired the gorgeous high form with an extinct volcano cone, hammer engraved maidenhair ferns and an opal doublet with crazy fire.

This one's mine, but I am thinking of maidenhair engraving and turquoise...Sleeping Beauty turquoise to be exact.

Orion learned how to blow kisses and charmed every stranger we met out this week. Being in line at the post office is too fun when he's there - people try to be grumpy and sigh but he just lights them up like Christmas. Puppies and babies, man....puppies and babies.

I made the sweetest simplest summer flower cuff for the Leather Shop

.

It fits a size 6 - 6.25 inch wrist. The fit should be a bit jaunty, not skintight.

Summer is not the time for anything that confines or rubs too much.

I hope to head over and tuck it in the Shop tomorrow afternoon. 

We had a bit of rain, some seriously lovely walks around the neighborhood

and lots of snuggles both two and four legged...

speaking of which, Janey keeps trying to walk onto my laptop, a sure sign to 

close it up and do some chin-scratching.

Have the most beautiful weekend, my dear reader.

May you do exactly what you wish!

xoxo,

Sunny

Are You My Mother?

Orphan Volcano Ring of such gentle beauty

HERE

.

xoxo,

Sunny

New Cabs and a Lapidary Sale!

The Fab Four

wandered into the 

LAPIDARY SHOP

today

.

They can be found nestled among other beautiful cabochons

and everything you see is 15% off

just

for

today!

Enter coupon code ROCKON

at checkout

for your savings!

Code expires at midnight Pacific time.

xoxo,

Sunny

The Second Year Mother

In the picture above these words I am exhausted. Can you tell?

I am exhausted because I stayed up until 1:30 in the morning firing the most exquisite butterfly wings I had ever conceived I could fire.

Tropical, magical, lifelike

They are destined for my work, destined to shine.

I am exhausted because I made cupcakes for a beautiful baby shower, using butter and sugar and love to help welcome two new twin souls into all of our lives.

The woman who has carried them reminds me of Mother Mary.

She is luminous and kind and her shower was a small and heartfelt affair under redwood shade.

I am tired because life has been full of wonder and hard work.

I am weary with an easy heart.

The night is a welcome thing; my baby sleeps and so do I.

Last year's tired was something else entirely, something overwhelming.

That soul-emptying fatigue of early infant milk hunger:

life was a clock.

That fear of anything befalling such a tiny being whose neck could not yet support a still-moving skull and the wee brain inside.

How I dreaded the sunset,

how excited and sad I was, all at once.

My husband reached out last year to make this day beautiful and we were surrounded by love but

my very cells suffered under the weight of post-partum depression. 

To reflect on the year in between these two very different Mother's Days is to witness a very slow miracle, the healing kind.

One mother was aching and in love, unable to express the weight of responsibility or navigate this new normal landscape, the other mother feels the ground underneath her feet and trusts her heart,

knows her mind. Has learned her new mind.

Just like the post-baby ribcage, pushed out like a bell at the bottom edges this year's mother is new.

Strange and soft.

Lovely.

There is no erasing the worry wrinkles, the widened midsection 

or the unrecognizable breasts.

This year's mother does not mind the newer body because it cradled and nourished her own second heart, a Herculian feat. Could anything ever snap back from such an epic journey without some give? Last year's mama prayed to leap back to her former glory or shrink back to the before picture. The success stories the internet and magazines tout would come to pass!! Thirty pounds in six weeks! Better Body After Baby! Faster Newer Now Hey! 

This year the order of physical health is life-affirming exercise (oh sweet holy sweat!!!) and good whole foods, acceptance of the changes that never came to pass, celebrating the spectacular ones that did: the return of the six-pack, high-school-cheerleader legs, the fucking radness of the biceps I am rocking.

They are so powerful!!!

They lift a twenty five pound boy with ease! They wield fire and hammer metals!

More wisdom, a bit of a stretched out trunk. Some back fat. I'll take it, all of it.

I have my boy. My world sings.

I know with each passing mid-May celebration the story will change.

I know this.

There will be years of plenty and joy, years of loss and recovery

full of the mundane and the glorious

birthdays funerals graduations showers sunsets coffees and a growing boy to show for it.

A human becoming himself under our steady care and love.

If I have anything to teach him of what I've learned since he's been born

I'd settle on 'patience' as the word for this day.

Have you lost your way?

Have you faltered on your path, been left behind?

Does the moment look bleak or hopeless?

Wait, I'll say.

Endure.

Next year's song will be a radical departure -

embrace it when it comes, but appreciate the tempo and timbre of this time...

it is the doorway to everything.

xoxo,

Sunny