On the studio worktable, the first autumn light has arrived before the weather has quite caught up. It falls across a creamy mug, catches the tiny brown speckles in the glaze, and stops at the warm terracotta shape of a maple leaf. Beside it is a second view of the same sample, turned around to reveal a much smaller leaf settling near the base.
This is one double-sided 12 oz stoneware mug, not two separate products. We are sharing the front and reverse together because the quiet difference between them is the beginning of the story. One leaf opens across the cup with the fullness of a tree at its seasonal peak. The other appears low and off to the side, like the single leaf you notice after the whole walk is over.
The sample is still a work in progress. Its proportions, glaze, and wax-resist details are being considered at the patient pace of the studio table. Before it becomes part of an autumn morning, we wanted to record what is already present in the clay and what we are still learning from it.
Β A worktable note before autumn arrives
For this mug, the answer became two separate maple moments on one physical piece. The front carries an 80 mm x 90 mm maple leaf silhouette, centered and spread across the body. Its highest point rests 10 mm below the rim, leaving a slim band of Vanilla Ice glaze above it. The lowest point comes close to the base, so the leaf feels grounded rather than suspended in the middle of the cup.
Turn the same mug to the reverse and the scale changes. A 30 mm x 30 mm leaf rests at the lower-right near the base. Most of this side remains open, a field of warm cream and scattered natural speckles. The small leaf does not compete with the larger one. It waits to be found.
Β One leaf held high, one leaf settling low
The large front leaf was designed to feel open rather than crowded. Its wide shape reaches toward the sides of the mug while the handle and rim remain visually calm. When the cup is lifted, the leaf occupies the part of the body most likely to meet the palm. Its scale makes the season feel close, almost held rather than simply pictured.
The reverse is quieter by design. The small falling leaf sits low, with generous creamy space above it. It may be the side facing outward while someone reads at a kitchen table, or the detail glimpsed when the mug is set down after the last sip. Nothing needs to fill the remaining surface. The empty area lets the irregular speckles and soft glaze tone stay visible.
There is also a practical pleasure in orientation. Some mornings you may turn the large maple leaf toward yourself and let its warm terracotta shape fill your view. On another day, the small reverse leaf may feel more fitting, especially when the room is still and you want less visual noise. It remains the same mug. Only the side you choose to meet has changed.
Where the glaze pauses
The maple silhouettes come from wax-resist, a ceramic glazing technique that creates a temporary boundary. Liquid wax is applied where the leaf shapes should remain free of glaze. The mug body can then receive the speckled Vanilla Ice glaze. The wax keeps that coating from settling onto the protected areas, and during firing the wax dissipates. What remains visible is the matte, exposed raw terracotta stoneware beneath.
The result is a contrast you can see before you touch it. The Vanilla Ice surface has a soft cream color with small, irregular brown speckles. The maple shapes are warmer and earthier, with a dry matte appearance beside the smoother glazed body. These are silhouettes made through glaze exclusion, not carved, embossed, engraved, or raised-relief decoration.
Wax is applied by hand, so the edge of a leaf may carry a gentle variation that a perfectly printed line would erase. We are not trying to make every contour look mechanically identical. A slight softening at one point or a narrow shift along another can show where the maker's brush paused and continued. Those differences should remain subtle enough to protect the maple shape, but present enough to keep the surface human.
When you hold the mug with both hands, the meeting point between materials becomes easy to find. One palm feels the smoother glaze. A thumb can follow the edge of the front silhouette or rest on the matte exposed clay. The shift is modest, yet it gives wandering fingers somewhere to return. That physical detail is one reason we wanted the maple leaf to live in the material rather than sit on top as a glossy printed image.
A warm cider hour for the senses
A work-in-progress mug becomes easier to understand when we imagine an ordinary drink inside it. For this autumn sample, we kept returning to a single serving of warm apple cider: fragrant enough to mark the season, simple enough for a weekday morning.
For one mug, combine 8 fluid ounces of apple cider with a 2-inch strip of orange peel, one small cinnamon stick, and one thin slice of fresh ginger. Warm everything in a small saucepan over low heat for 6 to 8 minutes. Keep the surface gentle rather than bringing it to a hard boil. Strain the cider, pour it into the mug, and let it sit for a moment before lifting it.
The recipe leaves room for adjustment. Remove the ginger if you prefer a softer cup. Add a second strip of orange peel when you want more brightness. If your cider is already strongly spiced, warm it on its own and save the cinnamon stick for another day. The point is not to make a complicated cafe drink at home. It is to notice what changes when a familiar drink is given a few unhurried minutes.
While the cider cools to a comfortable temperature, try a five-breath pause. Place one hand around the handle and let the other support the body or base. On the first breath, notice the weight of the stoneware. On the second, follow the scent of apple and orange. On the third, feel the smoother Vanilla Ice glaze. On the fourth, let your thumb find the matte terracotta edge. On the fifth, look at whichever leaf is facing you without trying to turn the moment into a task.
Five breaths will not clear a calendar or solve a difficult week. They can, however, make one small part of the morning feel fully inhabited. This is how we understand the ROOT24 practice: not as another standard to meet, but as permission to reclaim a little attention from the day. An hour may be available sometimes. On other mornings, the honest version may be the length of a warm cup.
Β An invitation made at kiln pace
We are preparing this double-sided maple leaf mug as an autumn pre-order, with an Early-bird Studio Price for the first stage of its release. We are leaving the invitation gentle because the making itself cannot be rushed. Wax-resist edges need a steady hand. Glaze and clay must pass through the kiln before their final relationship can be seen. A sample can guide the next piece, but it cannot remove every natural variation from handmade work.
No countdown is needed here. If the large front leaf and the small reverse leaf feel like a season you would like to hold, the pre-order will offer a place to join us while the mug moves from worktable notes toward a finished small-batch piece. Exact order timing, quantities, and shipping details will be shared only when they are confirmed, rather than guessed in advance.
For now, the sample remains where this journal began: in soft light, on a table marked by ordinary studio work. One side carries an autumn canopy. The other keeps a fallen leaf close to the base. Between them is the creamy speckled glaze, the warm clay left visible by wax, and enough open space for a hand to settle around the cup.
Perhaps that is the most useful thing an autumn object can offer. It does not ask us to hold on to the season. It gives us a place to notice the season while it changes, one warm drink and one turned mug at a time.
0 comments