Just One Thing
“A glass of Guinness surrounded by birdseed.I wasn’t exactly sure anyone else would know it was birdseed. I’ll confess, it looked more like polka dots on a tablecloth under the beer. But I knew. And since this piece was all about me and for me, that’s what mattered.For years, I’d worked to perfect my crafts. I could weave a basket. I could crochet an afghan. I could make a quilt. I could paint a decent picture. I could teach any and all, though none were my medium of choice. Pottery was. I hadn’...t made anything in a very long time. After losing Gracie, I’d lost the urge to create.When I was in the classroom I’d graded more about the passion a student had for a project than for his or her execution. The passion was the most important part of creating for me. I thought my passion for my craft was gone forever, but I felt that old familiar drive about my tapestry. When it was done, I thought I might rediscover my drive for my pottery.Connie came in Wednesday night for Thanksgiving and slept at the cottage.MoreLess
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