This bowl was made from a fire-scarred burl, gathered near Fox Lake in a stretch of forest shaped by an old burn. The wood still held the signs—charred edges, deep cracks, and the hardened texture that comes only from heat. But beneath that, the grain was clear and alive, full of pattern and movement.

The form wasn’t forced. Its curves follow the way the burl had grown—irregular and natural. Some of the outer char is still noticeable. It felt right to keep it there—a trace of what passed through.