I live in the northern part of New Zealand.
In the North Island is a wonderful place called The Bay of Islands. We live there surrounded by the sea, in a place at the bottom of the world.
Our shop we had for 22 years reflected this in its name. Enz of the Earth.
We were travellers, looking in distant places for treasure to sell in our shop.
And our Enz of the Earth shop was home to all these treasures before they continued their journey with other people.
We no longer have this wonderful shop that brought together people visiting this place from all over the world.


Now I make jewellery, with beads and bits sourced from the same places, and made with reminders of all the places we went, the people we met, and the things we experienced
in many parts of the world too numerous to mention all here..... I'll tell you of a few.

In India we met a wonderful Tibetan man Dorje in his shop. He was surrounded by dust and beads made of Tibetan memories. He told us of his reasons for being there and his journeys with his beads.
We sat on wooden stools and he looked at us intently.

Our friend Made from a village in the heart of Bali showed us pearls from the sea, Java beads from brass and glass, and silver beads handmade by Bali craftsmen. We had coffee in the little warung and sat again on wooden stools while he told us of his Bali, his wonderful family and village life.

Bangkok markets are one of the journeys end for beads from all over the world. We walked the narrow laneways, the busy cramped people bursting everywhere, and the little counters of the shops with beads strung everywhere, and people buying, and the sellers bargaining, and the beads ending in the plastic bag for the next leg of the journey to home.

We boarded the bullet train in China with Janey and Eric and 2 hours later we took a taxi to an old building somewhere in another time.
12 floors of beads and bits and dust and different languages and faces of stone. Of shops only a few feet wide and ten long, with the boss out the back and the young girl serving us from once again, the small wooden stool.
We selected, and chose, and rejected, and bagged, and on our trolley pushed the heavy boxes down to the basement floor.
Signed, sealed and on its way to New Zealand. Delivered to arrive home at Enz of the Earth before us.

So I want to bring to you wafts of these places, passages of time you can wear on your wrist, and call part of you home. Each part, each bead, made from another place, stones from the earth, pearls from the sea, beads from the people and matched with their hopes and dreams.
Simple, determined and honest... for you