There's a conversation I keep having with myself about permanence.

As a jeweler, I work in metals that outlast lifetimes. But lately, I've been drawn to materials that speak to even deeper time—materials that have already lived one life and transformed into another. This is the story of our Petrified Wood collection: three signets that carry millions of years within their textures.

The Catalyst: A Conversation with Chris Earl

Before I tell you about the rings, I need to tell you about Chris.

Chris Earl is a furniture maker here in Los Angeles, someone who understands wood the way I understand metal—not just as a material, but as a carrier of memory. When we set out to work with petrified wood, he was the first person I called.

"Wood is a magical organic resource," Chris told me, sitting in his workshop while his kids played nearby. "It can be sustainable and lush, sturdy yet elegant, rugged but refined—all at the same time."

But here's what struck me most: when I asked which of his kids would inherit the ring we were making for him, he laughed. "The one who wants it most," he said. Then he told me about his father's star-sapphire signet, how among six siblings, he knows he'll be the one to claim it.

This is what we're really making—not just rings, but future heirlooms. Objects that children will remember on their parents' hands.

Petrified Walnut: The Foundation

The first ring in the collection came from petrified walnut wood, chosen for its deep, warm grain patterns that shift from umber to charcoal. Each piece is unique—the mineralization process ensures that no two stones carry the same patterns.

We set it simply, in recycled gold or sterling silver. The design restraint is intentional. When you're working with material that's already this eloquent, your job is to frame, not to shout.

Petrified Palm: An Elegy for Los Angeles

The palm ring hits differently for those of us who call Southern California home.

 

Palms have always punctuated our skyline—these impossible trees that shouldn't thrive here but do, symbols of a city built on beautiful contradictions. But they're dying now. Disease, drought, time. The palms that defined our horizons are slowly disappearing.

When I found petrified palm wood—fossilized specimens from ancient groves—I knew immediately what it meant. Here was a way to carry that symbol forward, transformed from fragile frond to permanent stone.

The material itself tells two stories: the ancient palms that became fossils, and the modern palms we're losing.

The ring becomes a bridge between those narratives. What's particularly striking about palm is that it's technically not wood at all—it's a monocot, closer to grass. The cross-section reveals a pattern unlike any tree: radiating fibers that look almost cosmic when mineralized.

Petrified Sequoia: Deep Time Made Wearable

The Sequoia signet might be the most humbling piece we've made.

 

We sourced this material directly from the miner who unearthed it in Elko, Nevada. They call it Calico Sequoia for its distinctive coloring—warm ambers, deep charcoals, subtle creams that shift across the surface like geological brushstrokes. These were giants that stood when the world was unrecognizable, transformed over eons into stone.

I found our particular specimens on a sourcing trip to Quartzsite, Arizona (the same desert town featured in Nomadland, which feels fitting—a place where people go to find different kinds of permanence). Holding that rough stone, knowing it once reached toward a prehistoric sky, changes how you think about time.

The Craft of Continuity

Each ring takes 4-6 weeks to complete. We cast them one at a time in our Los Angeles workshop, where I can oversee every step. The stones are cut and polished by hand, each one examined for its unique characteristics before setting.

They arrive in hand-stitched green leather cases—objects meant to be kept, not discarded. Because even the packaging should honor the journey these materials have taken.

Why This Matters Now

In a moment when everything feels accelerated, when trends cycle weekly and products are designed for obsolescence, working with petrified wood feels like resistance. These materials have already survived one transformation. They've proven their permanence.

Chris's six-year-old son Guy told him recently: "Nothing's perfect, right dad? But we just do the best we can."

That's what these rings represent. Not perfection, but persistence. Not trends, but time. Each one is a small rebellion against the temporary—a way to wear deep history on your hand while writing your own.

The Petrified Wood Collection isn't just about the past. It's about what endures, what transforms, what gets passed on. It's about understanding that some things are worth the weight of carrying them forward.