Behind the Magic
If Opal could speak, I imagine She would hum: “I am not here to blend in. I am here to refract. I hold the light of the North and the shimmer of skies that never sleep.”
What She taught me: Opal reminded me that beauty can be both fragile and fierce. That creation can be quiet yet commanding — a prism for wonder. She was my first stained glass muse, and she still glows with the memory of Northern lights when the studio falls silent.
The reaction: Opal isn’t just a bird feeder. She’s a beacon. A declaration that utility can be art, that glass can sing, and that even in the wildest corners of the world, something luminous can live.
A Prism for Wings
Opal isn’t just a bird feeder — she’s a sanctuary of light, a cathedral for feathers. When I began this piece, I knew it had to be more than functional. It had to shimmer with meaning.
Since moving to Northern BC, the wild has become part of daily life. My daughter, after twenty-five years in Vancouver where wildlife meant the odd coyote or a murder of crows, now shares her mornings with foxes, ermines, deer, and countless birds. She feeds them, tends to them, and watches their quiet rituals with wonder. I wanted to give her something that honored that connection.
The inspiration came from the sky. The Northern Lights — those ribbons of green and blue that dance across the night — became my palette. I chose glass streaked with opal, clear yet luminous, echoing the aurora’s glow. Each pane catches the sun like a jewel, refracting light into a thousand tiny miracles.
So I made her a bird feeder — in stained glass.
It’s a house of light, a cathedral for sparrows. Each pane cut and soldered by hand, every shard catching the sun like a jewel. It hangs now among the trees, shimmering in blue skies and snow white forests, a beacon for feathers and flight. It’s art with a purpose, a gift that turns the ordinary act of feeding into something sacred.
Opal isn’t just a feeder. She’s a love letter — to her, to the North, to the wild, and to the magic of light that never truly sleeps.
