Tuesday, July 27, 2010

New Glaze Series

This is one of the new glazes I've been working up this year. Sarah named this series "Babbling Brook". Deep brown, glossy, smooth and nearly wet on the body, it has overlapping foamy colors of soft white to pale green/blue. Click on the picture above for a close-up.

When you test a glaze it takes many months to be certain it marries well with your clay body and firing techniques. We've been working on this a while and it's definitely a keeper!

Friday, July 23, 2010

Pottery Studio

The studio is finally done.
When we started this project, nearly 20 months ago, we didn't realize all of the life issues that would get in the way.

But, now, it's an easy place to just be. Wonderful windows and light, plenty of pot lights for late evenings, shelving and cabinetry to spare (today) and air conditioning...I even have running water again.

The only thing you can't see here is my wedging table and scales under the front window. The kiln area is in the next room - through the french door.

There is a double glass sliding door on the front leading to a small patio with table and chair - simply heaven. And flowers. Trees, flowers, grapevines and blueberry bushes...just through those doors. The only thing left to do is the pull-out bins in lower cabinets for glazes. And, that can wait. Right now I just want to create in this beautiful space...thanks, honey, for all the hard work!

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Loss and Gain

Wayland Myers McGuirt went home Tuesday to be with the Lord.

He was born in rural Waxhaw, North Carolina, in 1923. He was raised on a farm and lived in an old wooden house where he could see the chickens underneath through the floor boards. He worked hard all of his life and shared the stories with those of us who remember him.

He served in World War II as a member of the 345th/87th Infantry Division, a Golden Acorn. He marched through Europe and faced cold worse than the mornings on the farm when he awoke with snow on his blanket that had come through the roof during the night.

He married his wife, Sally, in December of 1943 and they gave life to four children; Brenda, Judy, Charles and Alan. He worked at a cotton mill during the day and on his small farm at night to feed his family. And he proudly worked to buy a modest brick home and his own piece of America.

He lived a simple, quiet life in the country as an outdoorsman. He hunted and fished, and he raised and trained hunting dogs that were the talk of the south. He sang in a gospel quartet and traveled to churches around North and South Carolina. And he grew some of the best tomatoes you ever tasted.

In May of 1983, when I married his youngest son, he stood beside my husband as his Best Man, and they always were best of friends. My husband called him Pop and my children called him Grampa. And he stayed with us long enough to make a lasting impression in how we live; in how my son holds his gun when he hunts, in how my daughter sings love when she speaks his name, and in who my husband simply is.

He waited patiently these last few years to go home and be with his God, his parents, his sister and his wife. He waited patiently these last few months when in the hospital. He waited very patiently these last few weeks when under Hospice care at his daughter's home. And now, his waiting is over, he is absent from the body and at home with the Lord.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

A Perfect Day on the New River

We spent many days like this when the children were younger.
Days where breakfast is a slow process, loading up boats and packing a picnic lunch are followed by a quiet, lazy trip down the river.
Where breaks for fishing, watching wildlife,
picking through river rocks, finding an island for lunch
and climbing trees break up the day into small and memorable pieces. Where the sun and the wind combine to form perfect temperatures and only mild sunburns on the spots that aren't exposed when we aren't in our river clothes.
With the children now grown, and a daughter in law paddling along, things haven't changed. Behind our mountain home there is a deep and quiet section of river that allows us to spend a whole day without seeing signs of civilization. Instead we watched hawks and herons, ducks and kingfisher, katys flies and log cabin flies, clams that opened and shut for us in the sun, and trout both at the end of our hook and swimming gently beside the canoes. Our youngest even showed us how to catch fresh water snails and judge if the water is clear or polluted.(Okay, after about four hours we did see a few cows, but...that's to be expected.)