summer solstice #4

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Last night when I left the studio it was raining (as it is now).   I stepped out and a powerful wave of rose fragrance washed over me. Today I went in search of some wild roses to cut for a photo and most of the flower petals had been washed to the ground by the driving rain. I found one flower in the shade of a sassafras tree. Planted as if a reminder, flagging how momentary these blossoms and fragrances can be.

04-rose-bush.jpgIn March, when my daughter was on her spring break she began to read Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. I had pulled out my copy that my mother had given me in August of 1977. I was 19 at the time, the same age Zoe is now. In the paperback copy we found a postcard written in my mother's hand and never sent. Stuffed in as a bookmark at page sixty, it was as far as I had read. Now, as I roll out slabs for plates in the studio, I listen to the book on my ipod. Having lived  in Virginia for twebty years with the habit of daily walks, the landscape and the words have a different resonance than it did as a city teenager.

"This year I want to stick a net into time and say 'now,' as men plant flags on the ice and snow and say 'here.'  --Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, 1974 (Chapter 5, Untying the Knot)

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i love this vase... particularly because the brown area that is wiped through to seems to have a tinge of orange that really plays off the other areas that have an almost umber hue... beautiful

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