There are relics that shimmer with summer’s fire, and those that remember winter’s hush—but Glyndael? She was born with the green breath of spring still clinging to her.
This necklace and bracelet set—woven from rose quartz, green jade, and aventurine—first appeared in a circle of moss, nestled between a bed of clover and the shadow of a single snowdrop. The frost had just begun to retreat. Somewhere nearby, a frog kept watch.
Black-glinting stones mark the edges of the set like seeds in rich soil, grounding the tender greens and petal-pinks in something deeper. They’re not the darkness of despair—but the darkness that nourishes. The kind that lets roots dig down and flowers rise bold.
Glyndael is a talisman for renewal, yes—but also for resilience. For the kind of beauty that grows not because it’s easy, but because it’s time.
