Grateful

 

I am grateful. Yes, in spite of all the terrible, difficult, confusing, maddening, and scary things this year has thrown in my path, I am humbly grateful.

I am grateful for my breath, my hands, my body (yes, even as it grows older). My arms are strong enough to lift my grandkids. My back bends, slowly. I make sure to use my abs. My legs love to stretch and walk and climb with me every day around the park and back. And my hands still love to throw, shape, trim and paint clay. 

Home and heart. 

Again, I’m grateful for my home, warmth and food. Especially this year with all the problems finding TP, cleaning supplies, flour and even yeast, it’s been scary. Just when I stopped ‘backing up’ my pantry so many things got hard to find. But one day at a time, I’ve gathered and stored. And I’m grateful my pantry is ‘backed up’ once again. 

While many other hearts filled with anger and violence and fear gnawed at my soul, my arms opened to welcome my children and grandchildren home. After many years apart, my daughter, son-in-law and baby grandson came home. Now I get to take care of two sweet, wonderful new humans. My granddaughter, Meyer is at that magical age of 5 and my grandson is moving from baby to toddler learning and growing with amazing speed and sweetness. 

Art and soul. 

Through all these difficult months, art has been my island of peace, safety and joy. Throwing teacups. Trimming delicate feet. Stamping bowls with messages to ‘act brave and kind’. Creating my own new way to make birds with heart shaped wings and encouraging words. 

All of this work lifted me up when my heart started to sink. It gave my body a way to work through my feelings. And my mind something else to focus on and move onward. And I am always and ever grateful for the opportunity to do the work I do.

Inside and out.  

Quarantines. Walks in the park. Gallery sitting with a mask and no visitors. Shopping with social distancing. It feels more than a little surreal. It’s difficult. Frustrating. And sad. 

But inside, my home is still my home. Today, my daughter and I cooked and watched a movie.  My husband and my doggy Darby are now snuggled by the fire. Upstairs, my daughter and son-in-law are gently singing my grandson good night. And tomorrow, my son and granddaughter will be here to eat turkey dinner and

Every day. Every breath. Yes, even for every roll of TP.  

I am grateful. 

Again and again and again. 

What are you grateful for today?

Change

 

When I look in, out and around me all I see is change. Whether it’s the leaves on the trees, the election, covid case counts or new restrictions, everyday brings new information and adjustments to my daily life. 

I don’t know about you but it’s taken me a few weeks to get used to everything that’s happened around me. The election took its toll on me. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding my breath, worried that somehow things would go sideways. And let’s face it, it’s been a bumpy ride. I might now like it, but sometimes life is like that. 

Deadlines and deliveries. 

In the studio, I’ve had a lot to do. I admit I was surprised to be firing up my kiln twice in one week to meet a deadline. I usually get my work done well in advance. I’m a planner and a list maker which I realize doesn’t fit the artist stereotype. 

But I’ve learned that clay has its own timeframe. Cooler, rainy weather means it takes longer to dry. I have to wait to paint the colors, bisque fire, add glaze and do the final firing. While I’d like to hurry the process and force the clay to dry faster, I’ve learned with porcelain, that leads to cracks, bubbles or blow ups. So I watch it, feel it and work with it knowing I’ll be glad I did. 

This time, I was working with a new clay. I wasn’t really sure how long the drying cycle would take. I would’ve liked to wait a little longer to be sure, but I had a deadline. So I had to change my work routine and timing. 

Time to learn.

In order to glaze the new dove clay ornaments, I had to come up with a way to hang them in my kiln without letting them touch each other or the kiln shelves. I ordered heat resistant wire and bent it to fold in and over my kiln posts so each ornament hung in a separate groove during the firing. I slid each ornament into the groove, turned on the kiln and crossed my fingers. 

I opened the kiln the next day and let out a sigh. It all worked out. The ornaments were glazed on both sides, still hanging from the wires and now with a lovely pearl finish. 

Peace. 

 

I let out a huge sigh of relief that day. And I realize sighs of relief have been flowing out of me for days now. I sighed after the first big storm hit and my new roof and skylights proved strong and safe. I sighed when the election results finally came in. Yes, I sighed when I opened my kiln to see dove ornaments fired and fine.  

Throughout all of these changes surrounding me, I was hopeful, scared, doubtful and finally, relieved. Now, I hope these changes will bring peace and a change to come together, listen, learn and help each other.