One Stone At A Time

My gem is Pearl — layered, and better for it.

Pearl's lustre, called orient, comes from light interfering across stacked layers of aragonite nacre.

The fifteenth and last stone of the Collection — the pearl is the only one grown by a living thing, built in thousands of paper-thin layers of nacre, which is why its shine is soft where every cut stone's is sharp.

My gem is Jade — tough enough to stay gentle.

Jade's toughness comes from densely interlocking fibrous crystals rather than a single hard lattice.

The fourteenth stone, and the toughest of them all — jade's strength comes from interlocking fibres rather than a single hard lattice, which is why a stone you can barely scratch was once prized for axes.

My gem is Labradorite — there's more of me at an angle.

Labradorescence comes from light interfering across microscopic twinned layers inside the feldspar.

The thirteenth stone, and the one that plays tricks — labradorite flashes blue and gold from plain grey stone, a glow so sudden the Inuit told of the northern lights escaping rocks it had fallen on.

My gem is Garnet — forged, not just found.

Garnet is isotropic, so light travels through it at a single speed with no double refraction.

The twelfth stone, and the traveller's guardian — garnet lit the way for centuries before electricity, and its name comes from the Latin for pomegranate seed, which it holds in miniature.

My gem is Obsidian — I sharpen what's around me.

Obsidian is volcanic glass with no crystal structure, fracturing along razor-sharp conchoidal edges.

The eleventh stone, and the fastest-born — obsidian is volcanic glass chilled too quickly for crystals to form, so its mirror-black surface carries no grain at all.

My gem is Tiger's Eye — I watch before I move.

Tiger's eye owes its shifting gold band to light reflecting off parallel fibrous mineral inclusions.

The tenth stone, and the one that watches back — tiger's eye is crocidolite fibre turned to quartz, and its chatoyant band of light slides across the stone as it turns.

My gem is Pink Tourmaline — soft outside, current inside.

Pink tourmaline forms in colour-zoned crystals and generates its own electric charge under pressure.

The ninth stone, and October's own — pink tourmaline was once mistaken for ruby by emperors who never guessed the two grow nothing alike.

My gem is Opal — a different colour from every angle.

Opal's play-of-colour comes from light diffracting through orderly stacked spheres of silica.

The eighth stone, and the Collection's shapeshifter — opal packs whole rainbows into silica, so no two play colour the same way.

My gem is Aquamarine — clear water, deep down.

Aquamarine, a beryl, shows pleochroism — near colourless from one angle, blue from another.

The seventh stone, and the sailors' talisman — its name is Latin for sea water, and legend said it calmed every wave it floated over.

My gem is Amethyst — the quiet ones notice more.

Amethyst's violet colour comes from trace iron in quartz altered by natural irradiation.

The sixth stone, and the first of the violet family. Its colour is borrowed from iron and ancient irradiation — a gem that keeps a good secret.

My gem is Amber — sunlight, kept.

Amber is fossilised tree resin with no crystal lattice, sometimes preserving ancient organic inclusions.

The fifth stone, and the only one that was never a crystal at all — amber is tree resin that kept its sunlight for millions of years.

My gem is Emerald — my flaws are the garden.

Emerald's natural inclusions, called jardin, are internal fractures and minerals unique to each stone.

The fourth stone. Its jardin — the garden of inclusions every emerald carries — means no two ever grow the same way.

My gem is Sapphire — still water, deep current.

Fine rutile inclusions in some sapphires scatter light into a six-rayed star known as an asterism.

The third stone, and the deepest cut in the Collection. Watch how slowly it turns — blue this dark has to take its time.

My gem is Ruby — warmth that doesn't ask permission.

Chromium impurities in corundum give ruby its red and its telltale fluorescence under long-wave light.

The second stone. A real ruby answers back under long-wave light, so this one is lit from inside rather than polished on top.

My gem is Diamond — cut for fire, not for show.

Diamond's high refractive index splits white light into the flashes of spectral colour called fire.

The first stone of the Collection, and the first one to move in a browser.