Wherever my husband Warren seems to go he comes home with rocks in his pockets or under the car seat. I understand the impulse but there are times when I feel overwhelmed by the accumulation of rocks and pebbles. So sometimes I do a secret grand clear out and make piles in the garden. I am always afraid of what Warren or Zoë might say, but am sweetly surprised by their discoveries of what they say the fairies have created in our yard. At the same time in my clay studio I am trying to recreate the energy of a rock as a plate in clay.
“Wherever I go, pebbles seem to find their way into my pockets and bags. When autumn comes, I discover the long-forgotten relics of last year’s walks in my coats, each one of them a memento of a place, a time, a thought process. They scatter every surface in my house, too, sometimes requiring a grand clear out, when I gather them all up and tip them into the garden. Still, they find their way back in. I could almost believe that they reproduce.”
–Katherine May, Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age
One reply on “#10 decembrance”
I am always grateful for your words, your postings, and your effort to unite all the large and small observations and tasks that add up to a life well lived. Sorry to have missed your open studio, but Rob and I were with you and Warren in spirit. Much love, Teresa