Where it all began: A Burned Edge, A Gentle Flame

Over a decade ago, my late husband gave me a pyrography pen. At the time, I don’t think either of us realized what a simple tool would come to mean. It started as curiosity—how could I draw with fire? What could I make from the quiet burn of wood beneath my hands? But as the years went on, that first ember grew into something much bigger: a form of storytelling, healing, and connection.

What I love most about pyrography isn’t just the art itself—it’s the smell. That warm, smoky sweetness instantly brings me back to my childhood. I spent so many of my best days in the woods, hiking with my family and camping with church groups. Mornings surrounded by mountain flowers, evenings curled up around a fire, the occasional deer stepping softly into view… that’s where I felt most alive, most grounded. And somehow, all of that comes rushing back when I hold the pen.

This craft has become my quiet language—my way of honoring the past, nature, and the beauty in imperfection. I’ve come a long way since that first shaky line. Now my work blends rustic textures with delicate details: scorched rose petals, lace impressions, gentle motifs that nod to both strength and softness.

Through it all, I’m still chasing that feeling—like you’re sitting beside a campfire, wrapped in a quilt of smoke, memory, and peace. Welcome to the warmth. There’s more to come.