Jaimi Parsons
I was born in Antelope Valley, Southern California, during the Summer of Love. My dad moved to Caspar in 1971, and from then on, I bounced between “La-La Land” — the Valley — and the wild beauty of the pygmy forest and redwoods. I tried high school in Mendocino, but the local hippie kids weren’t exactly welcoming to us city outsiders. So, I returned to SoCal for a while, only to find myself drawn north again in my twenties.
It was there I met my husband, and together we fled east to Chapel Hill, North Carolina, before hopscotching back to Mendocino County. We opened a restaurant, bought a house in Fort Bragg, and started a family. Eventually, with a bit more time on my hands, I found an unexpected kind of therapy in breaking and shaping glass.
When I was told I couldn’t do certain things with glass, I took it as a challenge. Over more than twenty years of teaching myself the art of stained glass and the alchemy of melting solder, I finally dove in — middle fingers first. My creations took on a life of their own: bats became collector favorites, and I started making banana slugs instead of overdone hummingbirds. I’ve always believed that bugs and the overlooked deserve love too.
At 58, I discovered that my name, when pronounced in French, means “I love.” It felt like a sign. Everything I make is crafted with love — no cookie cutters, no repetition. Every piece is unique, one of a kind, and a little bit rebellious — just like the journey that brought me here.