There is an occupational hazard to this business, and it's not the occasional sharp glass. It's the constant falling in love.
It's been slowly creeping up on me, but is now entirely full blown. I can't get enough uncolored pressed glass.
Hazardous, because there's no place to store it. And it's not all that practical. Beautiful as exquisite new blooms, but it never fades and can't be discarded. Only given away for someone else to love.
That's not the sound of shattering glass you hear. It's my heart breaking.
Hope you're having a crystaline day!
Ciao! for now!