John is working hard on order pile. We have to finish and get everything in the mail in 2 weeks, so the final push for this year is on. It took all the past week to settle in after our trip to Milwaukee and then prepare for the Thanksgiving Open House the artists in Ellison Bay sponsored. And then of course, we had our own family days and a little shopping ritual my sister-in-law and I have carried on even through the loss of 2 of the sister-in-laws. Fun must prevail.
I have done a series of larger dishes to meet my one order and I am still not satisfied, so I will be back in the studio tomorrow solving the design problems that are bugging me. And of course there is the biz side of our life here, which I will have to get caught up on. And then the etsy.com shop etc. Never bored, but sometimes I wish I could just play in the studio and not be dragged away by the other details.
Snow is falling, here on the last day of November. So a winter weather warning brings us into December. I guess that inevitability helps keep me grounded. Weather changes usually do. I like begin reminded of the world out there while I stay in here, looking at what is in front of me, missing the sky, the colors, the changes.
Storms are exciting. The wind picks up, our house does not shudder (living in a barn means we are solid) when a gust bashes us. I sit here looking out of my window high up, like being in a tree house and the tops of the trees are bending, whipping about, shaking the snowflakes off. I can hear the wind in the trees like distant surf crashing on the rocks, and indeed, I can hear that, too, if I step outside on the west side of our building, and wait. In the middle, and yet suspended above the wildness below, protected by the circle of forest around us. Secure, sure. But still, the wind in the trees is loud. I can feel the energy reminding me that the powerful wind is not kind. Beware Lake Michigan and all the Great Lakes this time of year. And there is some of my safety. I am on land, aware of the water that surrounds us.
Pottery studios differ greatly, I think, due to money and then the structure you chose to begin creating your studio. Ours is long, a bowling alley John says. My work area is closer to the gallery, and the fan blowing warm air from our wood boiler. It’s noisy there. John likes the radio on, sports on the tv. I like silence, so the fan protects me from most of the noise. My work dries out faster in the winter because of the fan, so my process changes throughout the seasons. Arthritis in my hands means my sessions with the clay or the keyboard are shorter. It can take a few weeks to get over grumbling about the cold. I am almost over it now, and even saw the beauty in the last snowfall a few days ago. So the idea that we will wake up to several inches of snow tomorrow is kinda nice.