Start with the woven ground
Every tray begins as green palm, a small grid sturdy enough for flowers and ash.
Fresh by Morning
a small square promise, woven before the street is warm
Place color where it belongs
Red faces east, white settles south, gold rests west, and indigo keeps the north.
Let the work be daily
The offering is not built to last; its care is renewed with each morning hand.
Finish with a rising breath
One incense line marks the doorway, then smoke softens the sandstone edge.