“Native Americans believe that the night air is filled with dreams, both good and bad. When hung above the bed in a place where the morning sunlight can hit it, the dream catcher attracts and catches all sorts of dreams and thoughts into its webs. Good dreams pass through and gently slide down the feathers to comfort the sleeper below. Bad dreams, however, are caught up in its protective net and destroyed, burned up in the light of day.” — “The Sandalwood Box: Suncatcher,” July 28, 2017
Ever since I was a child, I’ve wanted a magical Suncatcher for my very own, swinging jauntily off my rear-view mirror, reminding me of how much I’ve grown and how far I’ve come.
Suncatchers originated from native Southwest tribes, designed to carry our dreams and reflect the many energizing colors of the sunlight, caught up by the north winds. They’re similar to another powerful, native American talisman, the Dream Catcher, which kept people from dying or being attacked in their sleep by real-life predators and those in their nightmares.
I used to make them from popsicle sticks and yarn, hanging them on my canopy bed posts and taped to my bedroom window. One day, I dreamed of owning my own car, Volkswagen Bug — Vapor color, with two or three Suncatchers swinging in the top-down open breeze, on my way home from work, feeling fancy-free…feeling like Mary Tyler Moore in the opening of her 1970s TV show.
“Who can turn the world on with her smile? Who can take a nothing date, and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? Well, it’s you, girl, and you should know it. With each glance and every little movement, you show it. Love is all around, no need to waste it, you can have the town, why don’t you take it? You’re gonna make it, after all…” — “Love is All Around,” Sonny Curtis
For the longest time, life got in the way of my childhood dreams until the debut of the downtown Twin Fall, ID Market on Main two summers ago. Maybe I’d always seen Sun- and Dream Catchers around at other neighborhood markets, but I never noticed them before.
Again, life…
We were in the middle of a major move in an unprecedented pandemic, headed toward empty-nester, semi-retirement and the great unknown — from Washington to Idaho after over 25 years raising our only child, now 21, and trying to make a home with our little family in the Edmonds-Mukilteo area.
Childhood was the last thing on my my mind.
Then, I spotted a Suncatcher at Stacie Anne Designs’ inviting booth, one of many, and the world suddenly went away. Not just any Suncatcher. THE Suncatcher. Ultimately, the one that got away.
It was turquoise, bronze, and crystalline, twirling in a slight breeze, sparking magic under the hot, Idaho sun. Speckles of sunlight hit metal and glass in windows, benches, poles, and passers-by waving their smartphones around.
I was seven years old again, carefully wrapping orange and red yarn around my popsicle cross, sitting cross-legged and pig-tailed in my parents’ backyard on 7th Street in Ft. Shafter, circa 1971, with the faint scent of plumeria up the hill and the tradewinds ruffling my flyaway bangs.
But I hesitated, the adult in me questioning the worth of splurging on something that didn’t immediately feed, house, or cloth me. A luxury.
What would my husband think, and how much were these? If they were over $10-15, I couldn’t — I can’t.
So I didn’t.
Until the next time, when I found myself standing in front of Stacie Anne Designs’ booth again, lingering a bit longer, quietly eyeing, oohing, and aahing over the iridescent Suncatchers she had floating here and there.
That’s when I met her friendly young niece, a dancer, who made her own batch of shorter, dangly, sparkly Suncatchers. One in particular caught my eye, and my heart: onyx and silver stones interspersed with black rose beads and clear crystals. They weren’t at all expensive, either, around $15-25…very doable for my budget.
I hesitated once more, fretting stupidly that the Suncatcher might be too dark to be seen, and too short to sway dramatically enough for me.
But I talked with the niece, who told me she slips in an encouraging message with every Suncatcher she sells for her dance troupe. She was all about holding your head up high in the face of bullying, reminding yourself of your worth. Boy, could I relate.
Sold.
I held onto her uplifting message that entire year — it sat on the kitchen windowsill of our rental through good times and bad — and laughed giddily, like a schoolgirl off at recess, as I carefully affixed her Suncatcher onto my rear-view mirror, along with my high school graduation tassel and my friend’s Chinese good luck pouch.
Funny enough, just looking at it made me feel less alone, like it was my best friend.
Every time I went for groceries or a snack run, I felt her Suncatcher shooting positive mojo my way. I felt loved when I needed to feel loved the most, a stranger in a new town, leaving everything and everyone I knew behind, including my son — who chose to stay behind and make a life for himself back in WA — trying to start over in my late 50s.
Did I mention the pandemic?
Somehow, the reflective lights gave me a sense of calm, as well as a little thrill, as if I dropped smack-dab into a carnival disco on the far side of Neptune.
At last, I had my first-ever Suncatcher, too! Whoo hoo!
The next summer, I went back to Stacie Anne Designs at Market on Main after seeing on her Instagram that she’d planned to bring a brand new set of prism Suncatchers designed and put together by her mom Sheila. I had my eye on the one with the olivine squares and triangles, a little amber, and that pearlescent onyx that matched my first Suncatcher by Stacie Anne’s niece.
By the time I made it to Market on Main, a lot of those Suncatchers were already gone. But the midnight olivine thread was still there.
It’s swinging on my rear-view, along with my onyx heart.
Stacie Anne Designs makes more than prism and driftwood Suncatchers. She also handcrafts and sells chunky, sleek, all-natural gemstone jewelry (rings, earrings, bracelets) for the free spirit, whimsical, decorative garden stakes, car charms, and New Age home decor (Henna Hand Trinket Dish, Himalayan Salt Lamp, Selenite Crystal Moon Bowl).
You meet her, and instantly feel comfortable, not weird at all, as if she understands every thought and emotion coursing through your bones, a stranger standing there, dawdling, going back and forth indecisively about just what to do. Because she’s been there, too.
“If you peek in my window late at night, you'll see me surrounded by gemstone beads and crystals — blending the perfect variation to bring about the love, energy and protection we all so desire.” — “Meet Stacie Anne,” website
As a vendor, she doesn’t push, she won’t invade your space, and you get the sense she doesn’t suffer fools gladly. When you finally do come over with a question, request, or item in hand, she’s as effortlessly engaging and genuine as she can be. Idaho friendly — kind, as opposed to nice — which means people leave you alone, they don’t gush, but welcome you when you’re ready to say, hello.
Once, I told her how much her niece’s Suncatcher meant to me, still, and she said, “I got goosebumps.” It took her awhile, but she remembered me. Most people don’t.
I wished I could’ve told her how much her business meant to me, even if I didn’t buy a single thing more. Just looking at all her sparkly lights, the thought, care, and creative spark she and her family put into each lovely item…that was enough to take me back to better, younger days when I was still a curious little immigrant girl fresh from Korea, who loved to hide under clothing carousels, try on different-colored nail polish like my mommy, and gawk at all the shiny baubles under display cases at the fanciest department stores of their time, like Woolworth’s, Gem’s, and Gibson’s.
I believe we all leave our mark, our special spectrum energies, whether it’s in a book, a painting, a piece of music…or the tokens, trinkets, and talismans we touch, mold, shape, and share — for whatever the price.
It’s priceless.
I believe our recipients can feel that energy on a cold winter’s day, or a long summer night. A few of us can tap into it deeply enough to feel what the maker felt right at the moment inspiration hit, and maybe even sense the TV shows and movies that played in the background…whether it snowed, rained, or shined brightly just outside…during the many days and nights of bringing an idea to life.
On Stacie Anne Designs’ website, “Meet Stacie Anne,” she writes: “I believe in sharing the natural beauty of the world with everyone I meet and I truly believe my designs reflect this. I aspire to bring joy upon the faces & into the heart of the wearer, the gifter and the gifted.”
She does. She really does.
This is my humble way of thanking her, her mother, and niece, for putting themselves out there in gentle hopes of catching the light — in people great and small and in the everyday walks of life.
If you see her booth at Market on Main, or any number of maker markets in and around Idaho (she’s a native), go check out her hand-crafted merchandise. Follow her on her IG account to find out where she’s showing next.
You’ll get a lot more than a rote listing of her products, too. You’ll get her. She has a terrific sense of humor and frequently posts uplifting messages.
Plenty of other creatives sell Suncatchers, oftentimes in the same Market on Main. But she was the first, and in my case, the only. A friend gifted me with another Suncatcher, which I keep next to Stacie Anne Designs’. But kiddie-corner blues and pinks don’t compare to the original, not for me.
There’s something about her Suncatchers that speak volumes, personally, imbued with an incomparable depth and breadth, beyond beads, gemstones, clasps, and hooks: they resonate with a strangely alluring, reverberatory kindred residue that remind me of the best of my childhood…discovery walks, blanket forts, and howling at the moon…and I guess that’s all that matters.
Next time I see her, I might buy a few of her Suncatcher garden stakes for my backyard garden.
Hell, I might even get my ears pierced just to wear her Honeybee earrings.
You never know…
Beautiful writing, dreamy like a long poem