I’ve been seeing pottery ideas everywhere around me. The bark of a tree outside my window. The feathering of a goose by the Huron River. The coloring of a geode. The flesh of a kiwi that L cut for me before leaving for work at 8:30 AM (actually reproducing any of these things on a pot, though, is still a monumental challenge). In the mornings at home now I hear the drips of the faucet in a kitchen slightly less cold. A rubber washer around a screw inside a stainless steel casing has expanded. Spring is here.
Tidying up feels natural with the change in season, but for me it’s a slightly more regular occurrence. I call days like these “squeezing the toothpaste” days, as in when you can finally be bothered enough to realize the tube is lumped and wavy, the gel inside having been displaced over weeks to the left and right of each unconscious pinch of thumb and forefinger. So you force the toothpaste back onto itself again. Starting at the end, you make a simple motion that sets you back to the beginning.
