My husband is a potter. Not by trade, but by hobby. Pottery is one of those things, I believe, that one has to be born to do. Who the heck wants to sit on a wheel, hours on end, molding clay into a mug, air dry it, to later fire it, then glaze it, then fire it again? It is a tedious process that takes literally hours. A tedious process my husband, Kris (yes, he spells it like a girl, but believe me, he looks nothing like one), was born to do.
I supposed the joy Kris finds in pottery is the same joy I find sitting in front of my computer, by myself, hours on end, making up characters, and a world, and living vicariously through them. .
At closer look, pottery is actually a very magical process. It requires all the elements. Dirt and water make the clay, the spirit molds it, the air dries it, and the fire hardens it. Then, we get to drink or eat from it.
My kitchen cabinet is full of gorgeous mixed matched pieces of magical pottery my husband, my love- Kris, has so carefully made for our family. I guess I am lucky that way.
To all the potters/magicians out there – I tip my hat to you.
