01
Honest materials.
Solid hand-hammered copper, real glass, living plants — no plastic look-alikes, no chrome, no painted finishes.
About
A yoga instructor in the American Midwest. I build closed-glass terrariums I call forests in a jar, and I drink water that has rested overnight in copper. This shop holds the few objects I trust enough to recommend.
Who I Am
I’m thirty-four. I teach a 5:30 AM grounding Vinyasa class at a small local studio — I call it the breathwork that pays the bills. The rest of the day I keep a workbench, a brown-and-white spaniel at my feet, and a row of apothecary jars filling slowly with moss I forage from the damp edges of the local woods.
I am not a botanist and I am not a healer. I am a curator. I share what holds up in my own kitchen and on my own wrist — the failures as honestly as the wins.
Why a Quiet Life
I chose a quiet life because the loud one was making me a worse teacher and a worse friend. Closed-glass terrariums teach the same lesson on a smaller scale: a sealed jar of moss only works if you stop reaching for it. You water it once and you wait. You let condensation decide. The plants do not need your urgency.
Most of my days are tactile and unhurried — foraging, layering charcoal and substrate, polishing copper, walking the dog, and the kind of yoga where you can hear the wood floor creak under your mat. I do not think a quiet life is romantic. I think it is the only kind of life I have the equipment to do well.
Why Copper
Nature in the home. Copper in the body. Two halves of the same daily practice.
I drink from a hammered copper bottle every morning — Tamra Jal, in the Ayurvedic tradition: water that has rested overnight in pure copper. The practice is older than I am by several thousand years, and I keep it for two reasons.
The first is grounded science: copper is naturally antimicrobial. Hours of contact between water and a clean copper surface measurably reduces bacterial load. That part is not mystical.
The second is honest belief, not proof. Ayurveda teaches that copper water helps balance the three doshas — Vata, Pitta, Kapha — and supports digestion, joint comfort, and skin. I cannot promise you any of that. I can tell you that the morning ritual of pouring from a warm hammered vessel changes my whole relationship to the day. I wear a single hammered copper cuff or ring at the workbench too — I like the weight and the way it dulls and polishes itself with use.
In the garden I plant a coiled copper soil-spike beside young plants. The traditions around copper electroculture are old and the modern science is mixed. I run it as an experiment, not a guarantee, and the tomatoes have not complained.
What I Stand For
01
Solid hand-hammered copper, real glass, living plants — no plastic look-alikes, no chrome, no painted finishes.
02
Every object lives on my workbench or my wrist for at least a season before I’ll list it. If it doesn’t hold up, you don’t see it.
03
Free U.S. and Canada. Plain packaging, no influencer-bait inserts, no nudging.
04
I’ll tell you what science can defend, and I’ll mark the rest as ritual. You decide.
Start Here
The journal is where I share the actual practice — the moss layer that mattered, the copper bottle I retired, the quiet morning that worked. The shop is where the few trustworthy objects live.