Most things don’t last. That’s part of the deal. But some things—like the way a mother shows up for you, again and again—feel like they’re built into the grain.
This time of year, people give flowers. That’s fine. But I wanted to make something different. A small gesture that doesn’t end up in the compost bin a week later. Something you can keep on a shelf or a desk—quiet, sturdy, and still here years from now.
I make each leather rose by hand. One at a time. No shortcuts. Because the person it's for probably didn’t take any, either.
This isn’t about the rose. It’s about the one who raised you. The one who made you who you are. The one who deserves more than a Hallmark moment.
Here’s to her.
—Jeff
Dark Forest