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A Generous, Well Stocked Cupboard We turn coconuts into cakes, brass into trumpets, pigment and linseed into pastoral landscapes. Natural ingredients mixed with a bit of soul  broaden the human experience. We turn trees into homes, wool into sweaters, gardens into dinner. We live in an era of great comfort....

The morning air cold, but feeling like a friend. I went to see the fire tenders, those stoic mothers. Always handing out wise words, kitchen words, put on your jacket words. Watch out for bramble words, keep the fires bright words. They gave me soup, which was a set of...

The botanist sought out the sage. Why she felt compelled to do this i will never know.  I mean she walked amongst trees everyday, didn’t she? They sat there together. The sage and the botanist. Quietly. For a long time. Again, the botanist kept the company of trees,  So a...

Great Gray suggested I make sparks using peppermint and roses. I took it more as an order. Have you seen their eyes? Have you seen their talons? I was talking with an owl, so be it rosemary, lemon, pigment, words, wolves, I would strike anything together to keep this conversation...

The problems began when the kingfisher followed someone's suggestion to go live the life of an elf owl. Where were the rivers with their silver fish? Where were the tall, tall trees with their ample perches? Why do we blindly weave kind, yet inappropriate suggestions into our beings?

What shaped the orderly life of badger; a natural digger and connoisseur of bluebell bulbs? His desire to give shape to his soul.

The painter felt she was made of two equal parts. Part frustration. Part fear. But there she was wrong.  Frustration and fear, although making a lot of fuss and causing quite a scene at the moment, accounted for only one small sliver of what she was made up of. Part...

Then came the rumor of a thorn. The agitator of all this chaos, the root of the return into old habits  and blind impulses. Name the thorn. Remove the thorn. Let hope and energy come billowing up over the mountain   like a billow of turtles, women and wildflowers.

The mechanic was one to fix things, she could make most anything GO! She could invent new ways of going. She never stopped to ask, "'where is this vehicle taking us?" "Why is it designed to go so fast?" broken? chop-chop back on the road and flying towards...... the mechanic...

The architect went to her favorite writing spot each morning. A small desk in a treasured woods, dappled devine with scent upon scent of wood, soil, mushroom, moss, fairy.   **cup #354** 

Bowl #319  The small explorer was considering what it meant to be Kissed by Fairies and Blessed by Elves.  She realized it was an awful lot like being Hugged by Yetis. Wonderful. Warm. And Vast.    *Fun clay fact: The bowl in the photo is unfired, “green”. Once it gets...

While working on cup number 287, “Even the woodpecker must begin somewhere” harvesting the words and image onto paper, it seemed fortuitous that this was the piece I am in process with as I begin to launch my spanking new website and it is time to write my first post....