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This green jug was given to me by my mum about 16 years ago, when I started experimenting with recycled glass — just after my daughter was born.

She gave it to me to break… but I hadn’t been able to. It was too beautiful. I had seen this jug in my childhood home for so many years, so it sat on my shelf all this time, waiting.

This month’s challenge finally gave me the nudge. I picked up the hammer and cracked it open. Inside were layers of white and green and I was curious to see how they’d melt.

The beads turned out beautifully — and now I can finally say: Mum, I smashed the jug.

This bead comes from a Mr Mick Clare Valley wine bottle — part of my first efforts to make flower sticks from recycled glass.

I’d been using Italian glass for these sticks, but the T’Arts on Tour exhibition in Clare gave me the nudge I needed to try something different — to take the leap into trying recycled glass.

Including these beads in my Melted Moments challenge feels important. It represents the beginning of a new direction, a new idea taking root.

Stay tuned… more recycled glass flower sticks are on the way!

Have you had a chance to visit the T’Arts on Tour exhibition in Clare yet?

These beads began as… another bead. I’ve often been asked if I can remelt my own beads, and I’ve always said no — I didn’t think it would work.
But as part of this creative challenge, I decided to finally try. I found an old flower bead that wasn’t quite right, gently heated it on the hot plate and gave it a second chance in the flame.

The result? These soft, swirly little beads — and I was genuinely delighted when I opened the kiln.
So now, when someone asks, I can say yes — sometimes old beads can become new again.

Tanqueray Gin — another favourite in the Gin and Tonic collection. The green is so vibrant and fresh. And the best part? The bottle melts like a dream. Smooth, reliable and always a pleasure to work with.

Not all recycled glass behaves this nicely, so when it does, I remember to be grateful.

This bright orange jug caught my eye — such a bold, joyful colour. I had to give it a go! But as I’ve learned, sometimes glass loses its colour in the flame… and sometimes, you can coax it back by letting it cool and reheating it again.

I tried a few different ways of working with this one — experimenting, adjusting, trying again. This bead is the most orange I could get. Not quite as vivid as the jug, but still pretty.

You can see the mess glass has made on my bench. It really is temperamental.

Skyy Vodka — that unmistakable cobalt blue! This bottle is a stunner, no matter how many times I melt it. Deep, rich, and saturated with colour, it’s one of those glasses that never disappoints.

But beautiful as it is, glass can be temperamental. It likes to be heated up slowly and cooled down even slower to avoid breaking. I learned the hard way that I needed to preheat my recycled glass on a hot plate — otherwise, they’d sometimes shatter the moment they hit the flame.

This time, I simply added some fine silver wire for a little spark — like stars in a cobalt sky.

This bowl had been sitting in my collection for years — bold, pink and beautifully patterned with pressed swirls. It had that frosted satin finish you often see in mid-century moulded glassware, probably from the 1950s–70s.

I finally decided to try it in the flame. The colour was so vibrant I couldn’t resist — but as soon as it hit the heat, the pink disappeared completely, burned off in seconds.

It’s always a risk with vintage glass like this — often the colour is a surface stain or flashed coating rather than true coloured glass. And while it didn’t melt the way I’d hoped, it was still worth a shot. 💗

There’s beauty in trying, even when the outcome isn’t quite what you imagined. Three weeks of experiments and my necklace is really starting to look interesting now!

When Hendrick’s released their Midsummer Solstice Gin in a purple bottle, I was so excited. Purple is such a tricky glass colour to find — especially for recycling — and after working with the original Hendrick’s bottle, I was feeling pretty optimistic.

And yes… it was beautiful. Mostly.

The colour held, and I was thrilled to add it to my growing Gin & Tonic collection — but this one came with a bit of a personality. It’s trickier to melt and tends to fizz more than other bottles (not in a good way).

Still, the end result was worth the effort. Mysterious, rich and a little dramatic — just like a midsummer night.

The Hendrick’s Gin bottle — so dark I remember wondering if it was black. In the bottle shop it looked almost inky… but when I held it up to the light, there was just a tinge of brown.

I had to wait a while for one to find its way to me (I’m not a big gin drinker myself), but it was worth it.

The glass melted beautifully — smooth and steady — and the beads turned out a deep, rich brown. Not quite black, but close enough to add some moody charm to my Gin and Tonic collection.

This bead began as a piece of beach glass from one of my favourite little spots on the Yorke Peninsula. I’ve collected beach glass there a few times — it always feels like finding treasure washed up on the shore.

There’s something mysterious about it… you never know how old the glass is or where it came from.

I wondered what would happen if I melted one of these softly worn pieces. I thought it might turn clear in the flame — but instead, it surprised me. The result was something totally unexpected and quietly beautiful. Tumbled by the sea, transformed by the flame.