Awenwyth

Look across the AWENWYTH worktable and you may find a rather curious assortment of things.

A bar of soap.

A little glass bottle.

A string of bells.

Perhaps some yarn, dried herbs, twine, bits of ribbon, clay, or the beginnings of whatever we’re trying to make next.

They don’t all serve the same purpose.

They aren’t even made in the same way.

But they come from the same place.

Hands, home, usefulness, old stories—and the belief that ordinary things are still worth making well.

That is the thread running through the things made here.

It Began With Soap

Soap has always made sense to us.

It is one of the most ordinary objects in a household.

We use it every day without giving it much thought.

Perhaps that’s exactly why we enjoy making it.

Oils are measured.

Lye and liquid are prepared.

Scents are blended.

Clays, botanicals and natural colors are chosen.

Everything comes together in a process that is part chemistry, part craft, and occasionally part negotiation when the soap decides it has plans of its own.

Then comes the waiting.

And eventually, there is a bar of soap.

Useful.

Simple.

Made by hand.

That’s a pretty good place for AWENWYTH to begin.

But the Worktable Didn’t Stay Empty for Long

Making has a habit of leading to more making.

You learn one thing and immediately begin wondering about another.

Soap led us toward herbs and botanical ingredients.

Herbs led toward old household traditions.

Those traditions led toward bells, bottles and seasonal crafts.

Then yarn arrived.

And once yarn arrives, it tends to make itself comfortable.

Soon the worktable wasn’t simply a soap-making table anymore.

It had become something closer to an old-fashioned household workbench.

A place where useful things are made because somebody still knows how—or because somebody wants to learn.

The Keeping Bottles

Our Keeping Bottles belong to the quieter side of AWENWYTH.

Small bottles.

Simple materials.

A thought or intention tucked inside.

Their inspiration comes partly from our fascination with folk traditions and partly from something much more ordinary:

People have always kept little things that matter to them.

Seeds.

Flowers.

Notes.

Stones.

Buttons.

Locks of hair.

Tiny keepsakes.

Objects that may mean very little to anyone else and a great deal to the person keeping them.

Our bottles carry that same spirit.

Some are created around ideas such as peace, abundance, love, protection, confidence, grounding, prosperity or new beginnings.

How someone understands that intention is entirely their own.

It may be symbolic.

Personal.

Spiritual.

A quiet nod toward older folk practices.

Or simply a handmade reminder of something they want to keep close.

We rather like leaving a little room for interpretation.

The Bells Beside the Door

Then there are the Threshold Bells.

Of all the places in a house, the doorway may be one of the most ordinary—and one of the most interesting.

Every day we cross it without thinking.

Out.

In.

Leave.

Return.

Welcome.

Goodbye.

For generations, thresholds have gathered customs, superstitions and folklore around them.

Bells have gathered plenty of stories of their own.

Put the two together and you have something that feels very much at home at AWENWYTH.

Our Threshold Bells don’t require anyone to believe a particular story about them.

They can simply be bells.

A handmade chime beside the door.

A sound when someone enters.

A little piece of craftsmanship hanging at one of the most-used places in the house.

Or they can carry whatever meaning their keeper chooses to give them.

Sometimes an ordinary object can be useful and meaningful at the same time.

Then Came the Yarn

There is something wonderfully practical about knitting household goods.

A washcloth isn’t glamorous.

Neither is a dishcloth.

A Soap Keeper isn’t likely to become the centerpiece of anyone’s dining room.

Good.

They have work to do.

Stitch after stitch becomes something that can be washed, used, worn and eventually replaced.

That is exactly the sort of handmade object we love.

Not something too precious to touch.

Something that earns its place in the house.

And yes, there is usually a ball of yarn rolling somewhere beneath the worktable.

We have accepted this.

The Seasonal Things

Some things made here aren’t intended to remain all year.

That matters too.

The household once changed much more visibly with the seasons.

Different work.

Different foods.

Different plants.

Different preparations.

We like allowing a little of that rhythm back into AWENWYTH.

Perhaps autumn brings dried oranges, harvest pieces or something made from gathered materials.

Winter brings evergreens, ornaments, wool and candlelight.

Spring returns us toward seeds, herbs and green things.

Summer belongs to gardens, flowers and long days.

Not everything needs to become permanent inventory.

Some things should belong to their season.

Then disappear until the year turns again.

The Stories Come With the Materials

Spend enough time researching old household crafts and eventually folklore starts appearing everywhere.

Rosemary has stories.

Lavender has stories.

Bells have stories.

Doors have stories.

Candles have stories.

Bread, salt, apples, trees, flowers and countless ordinary objects have accumulated meanings over generations.

Some were practical customs.

Some were religious.

Some were superstition.

Some changed so much over time that separating history from later folklore becomes difficult.

We don’t need to pretend every old story is historical fact.

And we certainly don’t need to tell anyone what they should believe.

We can simply keep telling the stories.

There is value in knowing what people before us thought about the ordinary things surrounding them.

Useful Comes First

There is a phrase that could probably be written above the AWENWYTH worktable:

Useful before beautiful.

Although, given the choice, we see no reason something can’t be both.

A bar of soap can clean your hands and still have a beautiful swirl.

A washcloth can scrub a dish and still be knitted in a color you love.

A bell can announce movement at a doorway and still be lovely hanging there.

A little bottle can hold nothing necessary for survival and still hold something meaningful.

Beauty doesn’t have to make an object useless.

And usefulness doesn’t have to make something ugly.

The best household things often manage both.

Handmade Doesn’t Mean Perfect

You will find evidence of hands in the things made here.

A bar may have a slightly different swirl than the one beside it.

A knitted stitch may not sit exactly like a machine-made one.

A bow may lean.

A dried plant may curl differently.

Two bells may hang a little differently from one another.

That’s handmade.

There is a difference between variation and carelessness.

We believe in doing the work carefully.

But we aren’t interested in sanding away every sign that a human being made something.

Those little differences are part of the story.

Some Things Won’t Work

This belongs in the story too.

Not everything we try at the AWENWYTH worktable will succeed.

There will be soap designs that looked considerably better in our imagination.

Crafts we attempt once and decide never to speak of again.

Knitting that gets pulled apart.

Recipes covered in corrections.

Materials that seemed like an excellent idea until we actually used them.

Learning how to make things means occasionally making terrible things.

That’s part of it.

The important thing is that the next attempt knows something the first one didn’t.

Made for Real Homes

We aren’t making things for imaginary cottages where nobody has laundry and every surface is permanently illuminated by candlelight.

AWENWYTH things are meant for actual homes.

Homes with dishes in the sink.

Dogs at the door.

Shoes in the hallway.

Coffee cups on the table.

Bills on the counter.

Gardens with weeds.

Half-finished projects.

People coming and going.

That is where handmade things belong.

Beside the sink.

Near the door.

In the cupboard.

On the table.

Over the back of a chair.

Used.

The Worktable Is Still Growing

There are plenty of things we haven’t made yet.

Skills we haven’t learned.

Old household crafts we haven’t explored.

Materials we haven’t tried.

Ideas scribbled into notebooks waiting for the right season.

Some will eventually find a permanent place here.

Some won’t.

We don’t know exactly what the AWENWYTH worktable will hold five years from now.

We hope that’s always true.

Because the moment there is nothing left to learn, nothing left to try and nothing left to wonder about, the worktable becomes considerably less interesting.

The Things Made Here

So what do soap, little bottles, bells, knitted cloths, herbs and seasonal crafts have in common?

Perhaps more than it first appears.

They belong to the household.

They pass through human hands.

They carry usefulness, memory or meaning.

Sometimes all three.

They remind us that making doesn’t have to disappear simply because buying became easier.

And they connect us, however quietly, with generations of people who also sat at tables and turned ordinary materials into the things their households needed.

That is what we’re building at AWENWYTH.

Not simply a collection of products.

A worktable.

A place for useful things.

Old stories.

New skills.

Seasonal rhythms.

Mistakes worth learning from.

And objects made slowly enough that the hands behind them haven’t completely disappeared.

There is still room on the table.

And there are still plenty of things left to make.

AWENWYTH

Old Ways. Handmade Things.