I am covered in dust, the smell of wet clay as it slaps around the mixer, sounding like huge popping corn kernels fills my senses. I realize once again that the joy of the clay itself is at the heart of every day I get to play in the mud.
We have worked hard to get the hang of this new clay mixer. The dry ingredients want to overflow the tub as the powder builds up against the blades, but we have been persistent in “beating it into submission”. When the clay is just soft enough to fold over and mix onto itself it is done and takes whatever shape my hands give it.
One of my favorite sayings is, “life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away”.
I have been a potter for over 30 years. Making clay was a moment that took my breath away….today.
