After the visit to warmer climes. . .

After a visit to Texas, where temperatures were moderate enough to wear a dress and dog-walking shoes. . . ONLY. . .we're back in Maine. We had a couple of days in the 50's and 60's, but now were back to our normal 30's, and 40's if we're lucky. March in Maine. Not so bad, though I was glad for a couple of days reprieve.

And it was time, at last, to face the kiln opening. Things turned out ok. I made this oblong vase by throwing the top-without-a-bottom, and then forming it into any oval when leather hard. I like the form a lot. And the glazing is ok, though not what I had expected. I sprayed on the two glazes rather than dipping because I wanted a white liner on the inside. This is the speckled brown clay, and it is definitely a rustic looking vase. At 6" tall and about 7" long it will be perfect for some of the shorter spring bulbs. I should call it "Waiting for tulips". 

I was happy with the results of these Calla Lily mugs, too. Neither quite equal the Favorite Mug (referred to in an earlier post). . .one is larger and the other smaller, but they both feel good in my hands. The clay is also, again, the Speckled Brown. I'm out of that clay now, so it will be white stoneware, porcelain and terra cotta for a while. Funny how I approach my clay bodies the way I approach cooking. "What do I need to use before moving on to something new?"

And then there were the three rice bowls. Daddy, Momma and Baby bears. The two on the right are close in size, but the far left bowl, which I threw last, is noticeably larger. It's ok. This was a skill building exercise. And once again, I'm so conscious of waste, that I didn't want to cut down that last bowl to make it equal in size to the others. Notice also that the clay body (seen on the bottom unglazed rim) is white stoneware for the outside bowls, and the brown specked for the middle one. I like the less stark transition of the darker clay, though its roughness can be felt. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses.

This mug was an attempt to make a previous mug (also in an earlier post) smaller. This really highlights my perhaps ridiculous search for the Perfect Sized mug. Oddly, I thought I had reduced the size of both the circumference and the height by 1/2", but the mug remained stubbornly slightly larger than I had hoped.

 Perfection really is the enemy of good. 

Waiting for the kiln to cool. . .

 

I've got about a half an hour before I can open the kiln and see if my glazing efforts have, once again, gone rogue. But I'd thought I'd share a few seasonal thoughts. The first is that my impatience with snow and cold is starting to surface. It's really too early for that, because in Maine, March is just another winter month. Still it has its moments. Westerners tend to think that they have a lock on beautiful sunsets, but we have our fair share, too. And while grand vistas are often preferred by some, I love seeing the sky through the trees. . . this time of year, with the leaves off the deciduous trees, a lot can be seen.

To the right is the state-of-the-moment in our yard. According to our snow measuring device (a stick in the ground), we still have 11" on the ground. You can see in this image where John has snow blown a path for me so I can get to the bird feeders without getting snow down my boots. But look closer, and you'll also see a path that the turkeys have made. They're all over the yard, and are really fun to see. Many have impressions of their feathers on the sides of the trough. . .probably from when they were frightened and either flapped their wings or took off.  

This little troupe has become a regular attraction at out feeders, often walking on my birdseed delivery trails. It's hard to appreciate how big they are, but they are at least as tall as my hip. They walk like Egyptians, run like little children (including the yelling), and fly like they're not quite sure it will work. But their feathers are extraordinary. Some are iridescent black, some brown striped, and their neck feathers are small and arranged in very orderly rows. I'd like to do a series of paintings on enamel that show the beauty of animal markings up close. So close that you can't really tell what it is. A sparrow's subtle pattern of browns, a chickadee's body/wing, a chipmunk's stripes. They're all much more complex than one might think, and likely beyond my skill level. No worries. Most of our skill levels lack that of nature. Off to Texas in two days. . .