The entire bag is hand stitched using waxed linen. It will fit all the things you might want to carry around from here to there and more, but it narrows at the top for extreme comfort when worn over the shoulder. You can hardly even tell it's under your arm. The edges are coated with melted beeswax and then sanded with a light sand paper to bring out its sheen.
This bag is fully lined with a soft beautiful blue suede. An inside tablet pocket is sewn in for those of you who are like me and never put your ipad back in it's case. At least it will be protected while it's in your purse!
The Joanna Newsom lyric, "..and the love we hold and the love we spurn will never grow cold, only taciturn" is burnt in under the flap of the purse. "Wishes" as the wearer calls them, otherwise known as milkweed, were sketched, then tooled, then painted. The wearer of this bag used to walk up into the field with her father and blow the seeds into the air to release the wishes.
Burnt, tooled, and painted onto the back of the purse is the bridge that connects Woodsville, NH and Wells River, Vermont. The woman whom this bag now belongs to would walk across this bridge with her dad, each of them holding a stick, and then they would drop their sticks over one side of the bridge into the river to see whose would get to the other side faster.
I don't know if you've ever seen starlings, but they're an incredible sight to see. When I was riding Sojourner across the country I saw them for the first time (and only time so far) and had no idea what was happening. I thought the world was ending and the birds had gone mad! They swarmed and sang all around us. This massive black cloud of birds swooshed and whipped around and changed shape over our heads.
The starlings on this bag start on the back and wrap over the top to the front. They are burnt in and painted.
This bag was made for my sister. The father I speak of, obviously, is my father. He's a man who loves traditions and the tiny things in life that make it so beautiful. And I think of the starlings as our mom, constantly guiding us, watching over us, causing us to look at her in awe that such beauty exists. I also look at the starlings as a reminder to move forward (while singing!), with friends and family moving along with you. You dip, they dip, you sing, they sing.
All of us connected, just flying along like starlings.