| THE EPISTOLARIAN |

I’ve been thinking a lot about the work of building things, not just collections or dreams but full lives. Lately everything feels in motion. My cat Darwin was sick (he’s better now), I’m on my way to Charleston for the Victoria Magazine Gracious Living event, and I’ve been shuttling boxes from my home to a new external studio. I’m reclaiming my home atelier for the work of beauty and imagination, and creating a second station for packing and shipping since we’ve simply outgrown the dining room table. Expansion, though exciting, is also exhausting. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been thinking about how to move differently, how to gather and grow with a lighter touch, the way of the squirrel.

The newest penny in the Hastings Étui collection, releasing this Tuesday, features a small squirrel on one side and a wreath of oak leaves on the other. It’s a darling design, one that makes me smile every time I hold it. Squirrels have long symbolized resourcefulness, but what I love most about them is how joyfully they prepare for the future. They leap from branch to branch, chase each other through leaves, and tuck their treasures away without fuss. Many of those forgotten acorns later grow into oaks. Their whimsies become creation.

Coming Tuesday

The oak, of course, has its own language of symbolism: strength, longevity, endurance. Oaks connect earth and sky. When we crown them into wreaths, we celebrate completion, honor, and memory. In my design, the squirrel and the oak wreath speak to one another. One reminds us to tend to our rituals with joy. The other honors what those rituals become over time. Together, they remind us: that greatness is built not in grand gestures, but in small, steady acts.

The same could be said of letter writing. No single letter builds a friendship, yet over time each one, each creative design, each thoughtfully chosen seal, becomes an acorn of meaning. Some may be forgotten, but others take root and grow in ways we could never foresee. One day we find ourselves recalling a line, a kindness, a moment of wisdom from a friend, and realize that the smallest gestures were the ones that endured.

I think often of you, my Medici, patrons of gentler things, those who collect my seals and who value beauty, leisure, and luxury not as indulgence but as a way of being present in life. You remind me that even the smallest creative rituals can grow into mighty things, and that the work of beauty is not to hurry, but to endure.

This week, between travel and work, I’m trying to take my cue from the squirrel: to prepare, to play, and to rest, trusting that what I plant now will grow in its time.

Springtime in New York

Before Tuesday’s penny launch, I recommend ordering your Hastings Étui. I’ve just updated the quantities for both the polished and unpolished editions, and there are only about fifteen remaining.

The last creature, the Bunny Basket, sold out within a day, and I expect this one will do the same. Collectors who order their étui between now and Tuesday will receive this new penny with their order as a special gift.

This is the edition to own, the very first in what will become a living lineage of artistry and ritual. Owning it marks you as part of the beginning, a collector who was here at the start of something truly rare and beautiful.

Springtime in New York

Something beautiful is taking shape this spring in New York City. I’ll be gathering a circle of kindred spirits for two days devoted to creativity, renewal, and the enduring art of wax seals. It will be a chance to slow down, create with intention, and experience the quiet joy of making something by hand among friends.

This will be an intimate and unforgettable retreat, filled with artistry, conversation, and connection with wonderful people who share a love of beauty and meaning. Because the space is limited, early reservations are highly encouraged. Early bird pricing is now available, and places will fill quickly.

If the idea of gathering in a sunlit Tribeca loft, surrounded by the scent of warm wax and the hum of inspiration, calls to you, trust that feeling. It will be a very special couple of days. 

In case you missed it - 4 left!

The darling Acorn Bearer seal, which is larger than the étui penny, and incredibly detailed is available. Just 4 of the Collectors' edition remain.

Emily Dickinson's Favorite - Also only 4 remain!

Ghost pipe rises from the forest floor only after decay has done its quiet work. Waxy and almost translucent, it grows without sunlight, sustained by an unseen web of roots and fungi. What seems spectral is simply truthful about what it needs to live.

Emily Dickinson once called ghost pipe her “preferred flower of life.” She pressed it into her herbarium, noting its pale grace, and saw in its whiteness something of her own poems, a light drawn from shadow.

Clairy Crow Seal - Also only 4 remain!

Outside my studio window lives a crow named Clairy. My children gave her the name, and it stayed, light and affectionate for such a dark, watchful creature. She visits often, perching near my window as I make seals, tilting her head as if to study the work.

I have never thought of crows as omens. To me, they are guardians of transformation, ancient and intelligent, moving between the seen and unseen.

This seal shows Clairy resting on a yew branch, a pairing rich with meaning. The yew speaks of death, rebirth, and eternity, life renewed through decay. Together, they remind us that wisdom often takes wing in quiet places.

On the Pod - Dostoevsky's Lease on Life

Few letters in history have moved me as deeply as the one written by Fyodor Dostoevsky to his brother from a prison camp in 1849. I shared it recently on One Sealed Letter, and I know it will stay with me for years.

On the morning he expected to die, Dostoevsky was led to a mock execution. At the last moment, his sentence was changed to hard labor in Siberia. That night, he wrote to his brother, alive but transformed. The letter is filled with gratitude and urgency, written with the raw awareness that every breath is borrowed. He writes of the beauty of life and of how much there is still to live for, even in chains.

It remains one of the most extraordinary letters ever written, a testament to the human spirit and to the way words can redeem even the darkest hours. You can listen to the full reading and reflection on One Sealed Letter, available wherever you listen to podcasts.

To harvesting our acorns of beauty, we little 'munks/monks of leisure,

PS: Many of you have asked when dear Whistlejacket will return. I hope to have more by Thanksgiving.  The Whistlejacket wax is in stock though, and perfect for autumn. It's so pretty.