There is something ancient and unhurried about this urn, as though it has always existed and the kiln simply revealed it. Wheel-thrown with a full, generous globular form, its walls rise with quiet confidence to a flat disc lid, where a polished ammonite fossil rests as the handle a spiral pulled from deep time, warm amber and rust against pale clay.
The surface tells its own story. A soda-fired atmosphere has breathed across the stoneware in layers of sandy gold, soft celadon, and weathered ivory, leaving behind a mottled, mineral-rich skin that catches light the way a stone does after rain. Flashes of ochre and sage drift across the belly like a topographic map of some forgotten landscape.
This is a vessel that holds more than memory. It speaks of the earth, of time measured not in years but in geological patience. The ammonite, once a living creature coiled in ancient seas, now crowns this urn with a quiet poetry as a reminder that all things cycle, return, and endure.
A singular work of art, and a profoundly meaningful vessel for a treasured life.