The tiny island of my birth* is known for a few things -- you know, besides being the island of my birth. Ahem.
I've mentioned this before, but in case you are just catching up, or if you want some review, you can read some interesting little factoids here.
Of relevance to this post, Isle La Motte is home to some quarries that are no longer in operation.
Anyway, some time ago I was given a handful of rocks by someone who used to work in one of the quarries.
But you know how I love my local rocks, and specifically how I love pendants made with local rocks and earthy artisan pieces, and I really wanted a piece of that black marble. ("Black marble" is how it was marketed for many years. That is now known to be geologically inaccurate -- it is really limestone.)
So I've been holding onto these rocks with the idea that someday I'd maybe have some jewelry made, but I never got around to it. I was driving around with them in the back seat of my car for ages.
Not long ago, I ran into the wife of the man who gave them to me. Her husband had passed away in the last few months, and she wondered if I'd done anything with the rocks yet. Well, this was the impetus I needed to stop procrastinating.
I took my pieces of road fill in to a local jeweler who I knew was interested in, and sensitive to, local materials, Global Pathways Jewelers (which, by the way, has an Etsy shop). I knew they were interested and sensitive to local stones, because one of my other favorite pieces is a stunning pendant in Vermont red jasper that was made by them:
Since I have brown eyes, and wear a lot of brown clothing, I wanted to bring some brown into the pieces. I suggested to them that I'd either like to add a touch of brown stone of some sort, or, we both stated this simultaneously, "maybe we could add some copper to the pieces." So copper it was.
This is what we ended up with.
I picked them up last week and I've hardly had them off, except to sleep and shower, ever since. In fact, if you look closely, you will see that I am wearing the earrings in the photo in my last post.
(The large oval cabochon in the box above remains unset for the moment.)
Another Vermont Rocks story:
On Veterans Day, a friend sent me this link to a piece about Vermont marble.
*OK, I wasn't actually born there. I was born in a hospital in St. Albans, Vermont, which is more truthful, but much less romantic-sounding. But my parents lived there when I was born, and I lived there for the first seven years of my life. In any event, I feel very attached to the place.