February Love Stories

 Happy February!  This month, with Valentines Day, I’m going to focus a few blogs on love. Not the romantic kind of love that our commercial culture focuses on but all the other ‘loves’ in life. Animals. Nature. Activities. Creativity. 

I want to remind myself, this February, of everything that makes my heart happy, my soul refreshed and my body healthy. 

My first love story is about my dog, Darby. 

A few years back, I applied to adopt a Career Change Guide Dog. I’ve loved and trained many dogs in my lifetime and my last sweet dog was my first Career Changer. She was not a pet, she was my pal. Wherever I went, so did she. When she died after a long, loving life I was bereft. 

Finally, after many months, I applied to Guide Dogs for the Blind to adopt another Career Changer. I filled out the application. I interviewed over the phone. And I waited. After 9 long months, I drove out to the Guide Dog campus to see if I was the right fit to be this Career Changer’s new person. 

It was love at first sight. 

He was beautiful. But it was his warm, sweet brown eyes and slightly lopsided ear that captured my heart. I couldn’t wait to take him home. I had a new bed. New bones. New collar and leash all ready for him. I wanted him to be as comfortable with me as he had been with his puppy raiser. 

I can’t believe it’s been 3 years already! Darby is so much fun. He is also silly. Sweet. Playful. Exuberant. And yes, a little mischievous. And I love all of it.

He loves to run and chase balls but he doesn’t always love to bring them back. He’s a big chewer, so his toys need to be extra tough. He loves his daily walk around the lake and park. 

When someone he loves is coming home, he knows before I do. I know now, when he gets up and goes to the door and back to me that someone is on their way. He greets everyone he meets with joyous, bouncy enthusiasm. Sometimes, a little too much, but that’s my Darby. 

Great thanks. 

I can’t begin to count all the ways I thank my sweet Darby’s Guide Dog Puppy Raiser. This woman took a young puppy into her home and heart. She lovingly cuddled, petted, fed and played with him. She taught him to sit and stay and lie down and walk on a leash. She worked with him to learn to be the eyes for someone else. 

And even though he didn’t make it through all the rigorous tests to become a guide dog, he learned from her, the most important lesson: love.  

I want her to know how much I love her sweet, black lab puppy. How everyday I wake up to his sweet face and puppy kisses. And how grateful I am for all her loving care and training that shaped Darby into the sweet, adorable combo of: Tigger from Pooh and Scooby doo. 

That is why I love my Darling Darby(doodle doo).

  

In spite of it all - Thankful

With Thanksgiving day almost here, it seems right to write about thankfulness. But for me, this year, it’s more than honoring a holiday. 

It’s about surviving a scary, covid year. It’s about seeing my children, once again, moving out and onward toward a better life. It’s about getting through every day with half a kitchen since July. It’s about finding new ways to create, cope and even cook a Thanksgiving dinner. 

Thankful for the park, walks and playtime. 

Almost everyday, my husband, darling Darby, my daughter and grandson walk to and through our neighborhood park. It’s a beautiful, bountiful place. Filled with trees, a lake, deer, beavers, otters, ducks, geese and herons. 

It’s filled with slides and swings and climbing things. But there’s one place my grandson loves best: bridges. He waves to them as we pass over and under them. He gets out and walks them from one end to the other and back again. And again. And again. 

When I think about it, life is filled with bridges. At every age and stage, there are many things we have to cross to get from one place in our lives to another. Bridges that need building and sometimes, rebuilding. 

Thankful for a plastic sink and dishwasher. 

Since July, I’ve had no sink, disposal, dishwasher or floor in my kitchen. I’ve washed dishes by hand in the laundry room sink. I’ve made coffee next to clean underwear. And put down a patchwork of rugs to make it safer to walk across multi levels of floor.

A few weeks ago, my contractor came in and installed a temporary sink, hooked up my dishwasher and my refrigerator’s ice maker. Three simple things I am simply very thankful to be able to use again. 

Thankfully and finally this week, the insurance adjusters approved our contractors estimates for reconstruction. The damage done in July 2021 will all be fixed now sometime in April 2022. 

Thankful for clay, throwing, pop ups and studio visitors. 

Because of the flood and the mitigation, I wasn’t able to use my wheel. Without clay in my hands to steady me, I’ve had some very dark and difficult days, weeks and months. 

But now, thanks to moving help, my wheel is plugged back in. It took a few sessions to get everything balanced with foot props and the wheel levels. And a few sessions to feel the mud lightening my heart, my spirit and my imagination. After just a week or two, I’m surprised to see shelves of work waiting to be painted, glazed and finished. 

The biggest encouragement of all is seeing the work I love to do, be loved by others. Given as gifts. Taken home where cups are sipped, bowls used, vases filled with flowers. I’m always thankful for my studio visitors, social media likes and pop up customers. 

Thankful. 

In spite of all the damage, I’m Thankful it will all be fixed. 

In spite of all the fear and losses, I’m Thankful for all the love and support. 

In spite of all the rainy days, I’m Thankful for herons, otters, and of course, bridges.   

 

Home: The New Workplace

My dog and I always work from home, so it’s ok by us. Social distancing is part of our normal everyday routine.  But now working from home is the new normal. My husband, a news reporter, is working from home. My daughter and son-in-law both musicians and teachers are working from home. My son, a credit union manager, is working from home. 

I know for many working from home feels odd, uncomfortable and strange.

Working from home and being your own boss. 

I have a few pointers for those new to ‘working from home’. Since I’ve been working at home for several decades, I know it’s important to have a routine. A way to start and end the day. Borders that define the day, week and weekend. 

I start my day with a walk around the lake with my husband and dog, Darby. It’s not just healthy to exercise, it’s my way to have a beginning to my work day. You could go for a run or do an online spin or yoga class. Whatever floats your boat. 

Then I start my ‘work’ day. Throwing. Painting. Slab building. Trimming. Loading the kiln.

I take a break for lunch by going to a different part of the house, looking out the window to the sky and watching something different. Then I go back to work. 

I end my day with another walk through the woods with Darby. 

Try not to micromanage yourself. 

Yup. I’ll admit it, I can be a little too organized at times. I’m very aware of it but still find that many days I overfill my plate. As my own boss, I could be a little more understanding and give myself a pat on the back for what I do get done. 

While that sounds nice, I’ve found the best thing ‘to do’ is to make a list of ‘the dones’. I work on so many different pieces at once, I often lose track of the progress I’ve made. Making a list of what I’ve done during or at the end of the day can make all the difference. I feel and see the accomplishments of that day even though the piece is not finished.  

There are so many small steps required to make something into a functional cup or a vase, bowl, jar. It’s easy for all of us to get too focused on the finish line and lose sight of the fun  in what we do.  

Social distance and caring. 

Solitude is comfortable to me. For me, the hardest thing are the new rules on ‘social distancing’. I’m not real good at judging distances outside or around me, so I’m worried I’m going to violate that 6 feet rule. 

So please be kind. 

Social distancing doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other. I know we do. 

How are you feeling?

I know it’s been a turbulent week all over the world for all of us. It’s overwhelming. It’s scary. In times like these, I want to reach out, help out and do something. But instead we are all being told to stay in, stay away and maintain distance from each other. 

As a born problem solver, I’m totally frustrated because this is a problem I cannot solve. I’ve been diving into denial. Is this real? Is this really true? We’ve had tons and tons of viruses the world over for thousands of years and we’ve never shut down cities, countries or borders like this. What or who does this kind of worldwide panic serve?

I’m pissed. 

Over and under my fear, anger has crackled through me. I flipped off another driver in a parking lot. I got in an argument with my husband who is my love, best friend and supporter in all things. Why? Because I am really scared and I didn’t want to admit it. So I got angry instead. 

Now, I do have some really good reasons to be mad. And sad, too. 

One gallery closed in December. Another new gallery closed until further notice due to the virus. Another gallery show I entered for March/April was cancelled with a notice that it might be rescheduled if/when the crisis is over. Add to all this, my biggest show of the year in May is cancelled, period, for the year.

As an artist, these are huge losses. Not just financial but creative as well. I work hard to create and make ceramic work to sell at galleries and shows. Last year, I saw my sales grow as my newest body of work gained more attention from art lovers. As my pieces went from my hands into others hearts and homes, I worked even harder to create more. 

Now it all sits, stacked on shelves with nowhere to go. I, too, feel I have no where to go. 

So, I wonder. I wander.  And I walk.

The park. My park. My trees. The lake and my dog and my husband are keeping me sane right now. The woods have always been my escape from a hectic world. And my oasis from overwork and over worry. 

It’s also my creative inspiration. The texture of the bark. The colors of the leaves. The chatter of the crows. The faces in the clouds. The peaceful floating of the geese and ducks on the softly waving water.

And I come back to my heart and my hands. 

I live to create. All the things I see and love and breathe come out through my hands. My masks are the faces in the trees and clouds. My cups have heart shaped leaves. My bowls and jars have spirals, hearts and words I hear in the trees. My lily vases come from my love of the flowers in my garden. 

Lately, I’ve been throwing tea cups. I’ve always loved china tea cups with their delicate curves, shapely handles and colorful patterns. I never thought about making them until my granddaughter asked to use my china tea cups at our luncheon tea parties. I decided she needed to have her own tea cups. 

Throwing them is easy and relaxing. Trimming them into graceful curves requires complete concentration. I love making each delicate foot and pulling each small curved handle and adding a new little leaf and spiral. 

What I didn’t realize is that I needed my own tea cups, too. Especially now. 

Holding a delicate cup filled with warm, scented tea is just what I need to soothe my soul. 

Making them relaxes my heart. 

The beauty in my hand and in the park gives me hope. 

And these feelings are how I’m getting through the day right now. 

Snow Days. Happy Days.

As I sit on my window seat, I see the pale alizarin Crimson sun setting behind deep Payne's Grey hills with blankets of silver white snow draped over the rooftops. There are a few kids playing in the snow below reveling in the last of their 'snow day'.  And my sweet, silly Jilly runs through the yard barking with joy.

I love snow days, too.

I remember the glee in a free day off school. I didn't get many living in Michigan as a child but my Oregon children got quite a few. They loved it and I did, too.  Wrapping them up in layers of sweaters, scarves, hats, coats, gloves and snow boots brought back Michigan memories. I smiled seeing them slide down the hill. I helped them make snowmen and toss snowballs around. Soon they'd troop in dripping snow from their mittens with their friends for hot chocolate and cookies. 

Some of the best things in life are messy.

It was cold and white and sparkly this morning and I couldn't wait to sink into the damp, bright snow. My first wonderful sight was deer tracks leading from the street across my driveway to the huckleberry bushes. The other day, I was going to trim those bushes because they hung out over the driveway, but something made me stop. Now I know why. The deer were going to need some food and I had it right there ripe and ready.

Walking to the park was a wonderful sight.  

I saw the lake surrounded by white. Bridges over the lake and into the forest all shimmering.

My favorite willow tree snow covered.

Snow packed gently into the arches of the stone bridge and along with railings. 

Even crystal flakes made the fading pink roses shine.

Best of all was taking a snow day with my sweet granddaughter, Meyer.  Watching the snow swirling down through her eyes, brought back the wonder and the magic of snow days once again.  

  

Sunshine, Frost, Glazing and Window Gazing.

It's been an extraordinarily ordinary week. 

Outside it's sunny and cold.  And, I love walking through the park on a frosty winter morning. There's something invigorating about wind chill mixed with sunshine.  It may stop people from going out but not the otters, beavers, herons or geese at the lake.  

The glaze load in my kiln which I talked about last week was ready to be opened up.  Yes, it brings up faith vs fear issues.  But I also feel the same nervous excitement as a kid on Christmas morning.  I've been good, done my work and now it's time to find out if what I wanted is, actually, what I got.   This time, I got it all.   An entire kiln load of keepers!  

Sitting on the window seat and gazing out the window is part of my creative ritual.  Sometimes, I forget just how important this time is for me.  It's easy to see it as a lazy, non-productive waste of my valuable time on this earth.  But it's not.   It's what connects me to me, the earth and gives me the energy to work more creatively.  

The blue sky and bright sunshine outside becomes the color I wash on my urn and mugs.  The sparkling frost and cold chill make me long to throw mugs to fill with spicy, scented tea.  The soft, shiny glazes coming out of the kiln remind me of the clear lake water.  The trees outside my window inspire my leaf designs while the sunset colors show up inside my sgraffito bowls.

In fact, what's extraordinary to me is how everything I've done this week came from a collection of the most ordinary days.