Born through the Samhain veil, The Deep One carries the gravity and wisdom of the dark season, the knowing that belongs to the Cailleach, old mother of winter.
Her hide is that of a black fallow, dark as midnight soil, scattered with quiet flecks of gold like embers in ash.
There was a different weight in her birthing, slower, deeper, an ancient rhythm rising from the marrow.
Along her back runs a faint spine line, slightly off-centre , a shadow path through night skies.
Even her handle, a triskele spiralling from the back, settled off true. It feels right that way: a reminder that nature’s balance is rarely symmetrical, that wisdom often walks a crooked road.
Prepared completely by hand fleshed, cleaned, stretched, and sung by myself into being , she came from death to sound within the single turn of the moon.
Her tone is low and resonant, steady as a heartbeat in winter earth.
Hair-on drums hold the spirit close; the hair deepens both sound and soul, carrying the memory of the animal still alive within the grain. When she sounds, she speaks, of endings, of stillness, of the power that waits beneath frost.
A 14-inch fallow hide upon ash, dark, grounded, and true.
May her voice remind you that wisdom lives in the offset places, where night meets dawn, where silence begins to sing.
Tended and birthed in ceremony. This one is £475 plus p &p , or kerbside collection from Shrewsbury.
Born through the Samhain veil, The Deep One carries the gravity and wisdom of the dark season, the knowing that belongs to the Cailleach, old mother of winter.
Her hide is that of a black fallow, dark as midnight soil, scattered with quiet flecks of gold like embers in ash.
There was a different weight in her birthing, slower, deeper, an ancient rhythm rising from the marrow.
Along her back runs a faint spine line, slightly off-centre , a shadow path through night skies.
Even her handle, a triskele spiralling from the back, settled off true. It feels right that way: a reminder that nature’s balance is rarely symmetrical, that wisdom often walks a crooked road.
Prepared completely by hand fleshed, cleaned, stretched, and sung by myself into being , she came from death to sound within the single turn of the moon.
Her tone is low and resonant, steady as a heartbeat in winter earth.
Hair-on drums hold the spirit close; the hair deepens both sound and soul, carrying the memory of the animal still alive within the grain. When she sounds, she speaks, of endings, of stillness, of the power that waits beneath frost.
A 14-inch fallow hide upon ash, dark, grounded, and true.
May her voice remind you that wisdom lives in the offset places, where night meets dawn, where silence begins to sing.
Tended and birthed in ceremony. This one is £475 plus p &p , or kerbside collection from Shrewsbury.
