This jar was born in a wood kiln, where flame and ash move on their own terms, licking across the surface and leaving behind streaks of color no glaze could replicate. The clay wears the fire’s path like a memory.
Lashed to its side with waxed linen is a handle foraged straight from the landscape: unshaped, unsanded, true to the branch it came from. Holding it feels less like using tableware and more like holding something found on a walk through the woods.
Food safe. Hand wash only.