Welcome to november: Clay, community, and celebration
Over the weekend, I celebrated my birthday by gathering some of my dearest friends at the Little Fire Ceramics studio for what I fondly dubbed “The Great Birthday Bake Swap.” Each guest arrived with a treat and soon our table overflowed with cookies, pies, breads, and other irresistible sweets. A bar brimming with tea, coffee, champagne, and seasonal brews—pairings chosen to complement our impromptu bakery buffet.
It was pure delight to see my ceramics in use at the event, serving as vessels for joy and connection. The studio, which is usually a space for quiet creation, was alive with laughter, conversation, and the soft clinking of handmade cups. Everyone left with a bag of mixed treats, and I was left with a heart full of birthday cheer.
Today, on my actual birthday, I’m letting the sweetness settle. Mondays are usually my studio days off, though they often fill with small resets: laundry, errands, notes for the week ahead. But today, I’m choosing slowness. I’m savoring the small pleasures I so often overlook: a long stroll beneath the colorful autumn leaves, a spicy chai warming my palms, a quiet afternoon of reading on the couch, and quiet conversations with loved ones.
This season rarely grants me stillness. My days are full of preparing for the holidays, crafting ceramics for shop partners and my own collection, organizing studio events, attending markets and pop-ups, and finding moments to celebrate with family and friends. It can be too easy to forget the delight of simple things: the scents of cinnamon and cardamom, the comfort of layered knits, and the intimacy of shared tables.
For years, I used to lament having a birthday that fell during such a hectic time. But now, I see it differently—as a quiet invitation to pause and reflect amid the season’s swirl. My love for functional ceramics has always been about that very thing: creating pieces that hold stories, meals, and memories.
The same plates and bowls that carried a Bake Swap this year once held sundaes at a birthday ice cream social, served holiday feasts, marked quiet anniversary dinners, and kept me company through late nights in the studio. They’ve witnessed both celebration and the sustaining rhythms of everyday life.
And so, my birthday is no longer tied to the chaos of the season, but has become a gentle reminder that, like clay, life is shaped by intention- formed through care, marked by time, and made meaningful by the hands that shape it.
Thank you for sharing in these celebrations with me. If you’d like to follow along with new pieces, studio gatherings, and stories of craft, you can join my newsletter [link →]
