My doctor told me to slow down. My hands didn't get the memo.
For fifty years, my little workshop off Route 9 has been the worst-kept secret in Coalgate. No website. No ads. Just word of mouth, a worn-down workbench, and more copper than I'll ever finish.
That changes today — because for the first time, I'm finally letting go.
Discounts are applied automatically at checkout — no codes needed.
I never meant to sell online.
Honestly, I still don't love the idea. But my granddaughter Ruth sat me down last April and said, "Grandma, there are people out there who need these and don't know you exist."
She wasn't wrong.
I've been shaping copper in the same back room since 1974. Back when my husband Earl was still alive, he used to joke that I was married to that workbench before I was married to him. He wasn't entirely wrong either.
Every bracelet, every ring, every cuff I've ever made — I made it because someone needed it. A neighbor whose fingers locked up every winter. My sister Dorothy, who swore copper was the only thing that got her through her shifts at the hospital. People who'd tried everything and just wanted something that worked without a prescription label on it.
Copper worn close to the skin has been trusted for thousands of years — long before anyone called it a wellness trend. It supports circulation, eases the kind of joint stiffness that creeps in with age, and works quietly, the way the best things usually do. I didn't learn that from a magazine. I learned it from fifty years of watching people wear what I make.
