We all love a vacation, a time to get away from routine and have new experiences. I was recovering from surgery and my husband treated me to a long weekend in Cape Cod. I have no idea how we got there, where we stayed, and my memories of the weekend are vague, but for one, one huge memory. We were walking or driving, who remembers, and stopped to visit a house that was a gallery of pottery. I had never seen this before. I had no idea that it was possible to make such beautiful pieces. I spent a very long time picking up pieces, examining them and wondering. Finally I purchased 4 or 6 mugs, my fingers examining every part of every mug.
I knew at that moment that I had to learn how to do this. Why not, I told myself, if another person can do it and they have two hands, then there is no reason why I can not make pottery. After that weekend I started my search and started to study. What a passion I had, and still have for clay. To start with nothing, mud, just very old mud, mud that is over a million years in the making. To take that mud and its history in my hands is more than just an act, it is a feeling that I have history in my hands , making something from nothing