Birthed at Samhain, in the liminal space between the turning of the seasons, when the old year dies and the darkness begins to deepen.
This 16-inch drum has been birthed from the hide of a wild fallow deer stag, once roaming the Welsh–Herefordshire borderlands, stretched across an ash hoop and held by a floating fallow antler handle.
Stags are deeply mythological to me. For centuries, deer have moved through the stories of these lands. Creatures of the forest edge, appearing and disappearing between the trees, crossing the thresholds between the known and the unknown. In folklore, the stag is often the one who leads us beyond the familiar world, drawing us deeper into the wild, towards something we have forgotten.
And to me antler holds memory. Each year the stag grows his crown of antlers. Bone rising from his body, reaching towards the sky, shaped by the rhythms of the seasons, by nourishment, struggle, weather and time.
And then each year he lets them go.
There is an ancient wisdom in this cycle. A knowing that what we grow is not always ours to keep. That shedding is not an ending, but part of the great turning of life, death and renewal.
When I think of antlers I see them holding the memory of the forest. moonlit, clearings, of the rut and the roar, of bodies moving through bracken, of winter hunger and summer abundance. Of all the lives that have touched the life of the deer.
And perhaps this is why an antlered drum feels different in my hands.
The hide and antler bring together two parts of the same wild story. The skin that once held a living body and the bone that once rose towards the heavens.
Birthed at Samhain, this drum carries an invitation into the liminal places. Into the space between what has been and what is becoming. Into relationship with the ancestors of these lands, not only those of blood and bone, but the deer, the trees, the soil and the countless lives whose matter has become our own.
A drum of memory, of shedding, of return a a reminder the wild that has never left us.
£395 plus P&P or kerbside collection from Ludlow
Birthed at Samhain, in the liminal space between the turning of the seasons, when the old year dies and the darkness begins to deepen.
This 16-inch drum has been birthed from the hide of a wild fallow deer stag, once roaming the Welsh–Herefordshire borderlands, stretched across an ash hoop and held by a floating fallow antler handle.
Stags are deeply mythological to me. For centuries, deer have moved through the stories of these lands. Creatures of the forest edge, appearing and disappearing between the trees, crossing the thresholds between the known and the unknown. In folklore, the stag is often the one who leads us beyond the familiar world, drawing us deeper into the wild, towards something we have forgotten.
And to me antler holds memory. Each year the stag grows his crown of antlers. Bone rising from his body, reaching towards the sky, shaped by the rhythms of the seasons, by nourishment, struggle, weather and time.
And then each year he lets them go.
There is an ancient wisdom in this cycle. A knowing that what we grow is not always ours to keep. That shedding is not an ending, but part of the great turning of life, death and renewal.
When I think of antlers I see them holding the memory of the forest. moonlit, clearings, of the rut and the roar, of bodies moving through bracken, of winter hunger and summer abundance. Of all the lives that have touched the life of the deer.
And perhaps this is why an antlered drum feels different in my hands.
The hide and antler bring together two parts of the same wild story. The skin that once held a living body and the bone that once rose towards the heavens.
Birthed at Samhain, this drum carries an invitation into the liminal places. Into the space between what has been and what is becoming. Into relationship with the ancestors of these lands, not only those of blood and bone, but the deer, the trees, the soil and the countless lives whose matter has become our own.
A drum of memory, of shedding, of return a a reminder the wild that has never left us.
£395 plus P&P or kerbside collection from Ludlow
