There are some collections that arrive at the shop and immediately feel different. Trovelore is one of them.
First, I zoom in. I find myself leaning in to look at every detail: the shimmer of a dragonfly wing, the fuzzy body of a bumblebee, the mirrored silver wings of a cicada. The level of handwork is amazing.
What keeps me coming back to Trovelore isn't just the embroidery or beadwork - it's that every piece seems to spark a story.
As I zoom out I realize that these pieces rarely stay just objects for me. They become little portals into memory, symbolism, wonder, and connection. They remind me how deeply intertwined objects are with meaning.
I know it sounds a little woo-woo. I’m okay with that.
The Pieces I Return To
The Day Octopus
Ever since reading The Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery years ago, I’ve never looked at octopuses — or honestly, life itself — in quite the same way again.
The book completely recalibrated how I think about sentience, intelligence, emotion, and our relationship to the natural world. Octopuses stopped feeling alien and started feeling deeply familiar: curious, emotional, mysterious, playful.
Octopus objects always remind me of that shift. (That's why you see octopus so often at t&o.)
Its swirling tentacles and luminous beadwork feel alive somehow, full of movement and personality. It’s a tiny reminder that there is infinitely more consciousness and wonder surrounding us than we often allow ourselves to notice.
The Wanderer Monarch
I grew up along the monarch migration path, where some years the trees in our yard would become completely covered in monarch butterflies.
Hundreds of thousands of them would cling to the branches at once, turning the trees themselves into something alive and flickering.
It was one of the great wonders of my childhood — and still feels almost impossible to explain to anyone who hasn’t seen it.
Monarchs carry so much symbolism — transformation, endurance, migration, resilience — but for me they also represent awe. That feeling of witnessing something so beautiful and ancient that it briefly stops you in your tracks.
Walker’s Cicada
Cicadas are deeply tied to childhood for me.
The soundtrack of hot summer afternoons. Crunchy exoskeletons clinging to tree trunks. My brothers putting those shells in my hair while I screamed in horror.
Thank goodness for brothers and cicadas, honestly.
But beyond nostalgia, cicadas feel strangely profound to me now. They're creatures that spend years underground before emerging briefly into the light, filling the world with noise and presence before disappearing again.
There’s something poetic about that.
Trovelore’s cicada brooch — with its mirrored wings and shimmering silver details — transforms an often-overlooked insect into something truly extraordinary.
The Wheat Head
Being from Kansas means wheat is practically stitched into my identity. Wheat fields, grain elevators, endless prairie horizon. A wheat head looks just like the quiet industriousness of the Midwest.
Wheat also feels like a symbol for something bigger to me: nourishment, patience, labor and community. The understanding that life depends on countless acts of care and cultivation, repeated season after season.
Blooming Desert Cactus
My mother spends much of her time in the Sonoran Desert, and now I appreciate saguaros in a way I never expected.
They're tall, oddly graceful, and somehow full of personality despite mostly just standing there. The first time you spend real time around them, it's easy to understand why people learn to love the desert.
Saguaros survive in conditions that seem impossible. Their blooms are almost mathematical in their precision. They're lynchpins of their ecosystems. It's almost like they're sending mixed messages. Yes, they're prickly - but much of the desert life around them couldn't exist without them.
Why Tiny Treasures Matter
I think that’s ultimately what I love about Trovelore.
These pieces invite us to pay attention.
To zoom in closely enough to marvel at craftsmanship, texture, color, and detail — and then zoom back out far enough to appreciate the moments that resonate and mold our value systems.
Somehow a tiny embroidered octopus becomes a conversation about curiosity.
A monarch becomes a childhood memory.
A cicada becomes a family story.
A cactus becomes a reminder that being prickly and life-giving aren't mutually exclusive.
Not bad for a brooch. Or maybe that's exactly what art is supposed to do.
Want to see if any of the new arrivals from Trovelore connect with you? You can check out our collection here.
