How It All Began
Welcome — I’m so glad you’re here. Before you explore what I’ve created, I’d like to share the path that led me here. This wasn’t a plan or a business idea — just a quiet, growing pull toward working with my hands. Over the years, that pull became a rhythm, and eventually, a life. Here’s how it all unfolded, one piece at a time.
Age 10 – A Spark of Stillness
I was ten when I first lost track of time while making something. I’d found a box of tangled chains and buttons in an old drawer and spent the whole afternoon trying to turn it all into something new. I didn’t know it then, but that quiet, focused moment was the start of everything.
Age 17 – A Thread Between Friends
At seventeen, I had started giving away little pieces — makeshift earrings, charm necklaces — often stitched together from scraps or found bits. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone; I just loved giving something handmade. And when I saw someone still wearing it weeks later, I realized it mattered more than I thought.
Age 31 – A Pull I Couldn’t Ignore
By thirty-one, life had taken me in all kinds of directions, but I kept coming back to the same thing: creating. I bought my first real tools, found a small table near a window, and began working with intention. The pieces got stronger. So did my sense of purpose.
Age 45 – A Step Into the World
At forty-five, a friend convinced me to share a few pieces at a neighborhood market. I remember my hands shaking as I laid everything out. But someone stopped, admired a pair of earrings, and bought them. That moment — so small and so big — was when I knew I had to keep going.
Age 56 – A Space of My Own
When I turned fifty-six, I turned the back shed into a studio. Nothing fancy — just sunlight, tools, and shelves full of little things waiting to become something more. That same year, my daughter helped me open my online shop. When an order came in from across the country, it felt like magic.
Age 68 – A Slower, Deeper Joy
Now, at sixty-eight, I move at a gentler pace. There’s more time for my grandchildren, for early mornings, for long walks. But the studio still calls to me. I still create — not for deadlines or growth, but because it brings me peace. And with each piece I send out, I hope that feeling travels with it.