Fired with Love: A Kiln & Kettle Christmas Story

A First Christmas at Kiln & Kettle

Once upon a December — the very first December — there was a little ceramic studio on a quiet street in Heemstede, glowing softly against the winter dark. Its name was Kiln & Kettle, and though it had only opened its doors back in June, it already felt as though it had lived a hundred small stories.

Since those early summer days, it had been an extraordinary journey. What began as a dream carried by Shireen, with hands in a creative tangle and a hopeful heart, slowly grew into something alive. With the steady magic of her colleague Caren beside her, the studio became a place where clay met laughter, where strangers became regulars, and where creativity found a home. By the time Christmas arrived, Kiln & Kettle was no longer just a studio — it was a gathering place, quietly humming with belonging.

As December settled in, the windows began to glow earlier each evening. From the outside, the studio looked cosy. From the inside, it felt as though Christmas itself had moved in and made a cup of tea. The door barely stopped opening. Families arrived wrapped in scarves and laughter. Friends slipped in between busy lives to steal a moment of calm. And the familiar faces — those who had become part of the story over the months — returned again and again, carrying warmth, kindness, and a sense that they belonged right there.

They came to paint.

They came to create.

They came to make Christmas with their hands.

Brushstrokes turned into shimmering baubles for Christmas trees, plates destined for festive tables, and keepsakes meant to last far beyond the season. Somewhere between the paint pots, the gentle clink of brushes, and the low hum of conversation, a quiet realisation settled into the room like falling snow:

This Christmas, Kiln & Kettle will be everywhere. On trees glowing with fairy lights. On breakfast tables filled with laughter. Wrapped carefully and given with love.

A little piece of the studio would be woven into family mornings, shared traditions, and memories that would return year after year.

Watching over it all was Charlotte the Kiln — the one and only — glowing steadily in her corner, working tirelessly. She held every laugh, every careful detail, every hopeful pause before opening her warm doors. If there was magic in the room, it lived in her gentle heat, sealing joy into clay and turning moments into something lasting.

And Shireen and Caren? Perhaps they were simply two devoted elves — wiping tables, topping up paint pots, welcoming everyone who crossed the threshold — quietly keeping the wheels turning while the Christmas miracle unfolded. Because that’s the secret of Kiln & Kettle’s first Christmas: It wasn’t just about ceramics. It was about people. And the magic that happens when they gather, create, and feel at home — together.

The Morning the Wreaths Came to Life

One crisp winter morning, the studio transformed once again. Together with Hippe Workshops, we gathered to make Christmas wreaths.

Greenery covered the tables. Hands worked side by side. Conversations flowed — sometimes quiet, sometimes full of laughter. Each wreath became completely unique, shaped by the person creating it.

What began as branches and wire slowly turned into something far more meaningful: a symbol of welcome, care, and home, ready to hang on doors and usher Christmas in.

From Santa’s Cookies to “Christmas Calories Don’t Count”

As the weeks passed, the shelves filled with playful and joyful pieces. Plates painted with Santa’s Cookies. Cheeky reminders that Christmas calories don’t count.

Every piece carried a story — of a family afternoon, a shared laugh, a moment stolen from the rush of December to simply sit, paint, and be together.

ChamPainting Nights & Festive Indulgence

One evening, after children were tucked into bed and the house lights dimmed, Kiln and Kettle opened its doors to something special. ChamPainting. Bubbles were poured. Cake was shared. Girlfriends reconnected before the true Christmas chaos began. For a few hours, it felt deliciously indulgent — a touch of Marie Antoinette, but grounded in real life: women, creativity, laughter, and the joy of being together.

Candles, Connection & a Quiet Christmas Miracle

At our more intimate workshops, like candle making, something unexpected happened. Strangers arrived. Conversations sparked. Connections formed. And here, quietly, was our Christmas miracle. Not a loud one. Not a dramatic one. But the kind that truly matters.

People slowed down. People felt seen. People left lighter than when they arrived.

In a season that can feel overwhelming, Kiln and Kettle became a place of pause — a small haven of warmth, creativity, and human connection.

Where Christmas Truly Lived

This month, Kiln and Kettle was more than a ceramic studio. It became a place where Christmas lived. In clay and paint. In glowing shelves and shared tables. In laughter, stories, and moments of quiet joy.

Every piece created, every conversation shared, every cup of tea poured became part of something bigger — a season shaped by community, love, and togetherness.

And just before we close the door, a word from Charlotte herself:

“If you felt the magic, I fired it.

One kiln. One queen.”

Charlotte Kiln

“Burning bright at 1050 degrees.

You’re welcome.”