Something here pulls me deep.
Deep into the hammer.
Deep into the flame.
Rolled into my makeup.
Casting the buds of the branches of my own arms.
Planishing my own metal skin.

There's soul here. It's poured into every single piece.
it overflows, it fills like rain water
carving itself through me and eventually soaking in to my dry desert roots.

I'm burning red.
I'm sooty black
I am one thousand tiny pings of steel to silver
I am the small hiss of every flame.
It's here, I glow.
It's here, I grow.

Hand cast succulents, plucked right from my own backyard, spun into solid silver, and turned into the hands of crystals and citrine. 

Details of the chattery sweet pea.

I've never shared this with anyone... I never tell people it's there... but maybe it's time to share... often I leave small notes to the wearer (yes even though they have no idea) inside, behind my stones. Something loving and positive. Here's what's hidden behind the bone necklace piece.

All to hit the shop sooner than soon.