'The Meadow'

Everything else fades. The forget-me-not stays blue. This is botanical fact — the anthocyanin pigment that makes the flower that particular blue, the pale sky-blue of a spring afternoon at the edge of an old fence line, is exceptionally stable in dried and pressed form. Press a forget-me-not into resin and come back in thirty years, and it will still be blue. It is not performing permanence. It simply is permanent.

A meadow is a negotiation that has been ongoing for longer than anyone has watched it. The grasses, the clovers, the bee balm, the stitchwort, the forget-me-not — each one claiming its territory and yielding and claiming again, year after year. The meadow in this buckle is the compressed version of that negotiation: forget-me-nots through and over the meadow botanicals, the blue dominating, the green holding the rest in place, the whole of it captured at its moment of equilibrium. The wildness is still there, pressed into resin, worn at the waist.

This buckle is for the woman who knows that the most resilient things are also often the smallest ones.