We’ve both been working hard in the studio. Steve was trimming cups and putting on handles:
I was working on these small tiles, and a larger triptych:
I’ll continue working on the triptych tomorrow and see how it evolves. There is something magical about the process. When I am quiet and attentive, the clay lets me know what I need to do.
A few weeks ago, one of my hens, one of the original flock (which makes her a senior citizen), started having trouble walking. The other hens began picking on her mercilessly. She would cower and hide her head under one of the nesting boxes. The others wouldn’t let her eat or drink, so I began closing them out of the coop while she’d drink. This went on for over 2 weeks.
Farm folks would say that this is Nature’s way of culling the flock, and I suppose there is truth to this. However, I decided that she should at least have some comfort for her last few days. So I put bedding in a crate, and put her in, protected. That was 2 weeks ago. This chicken won’t drink, but eats watermelon and grapes. She gets around in the crate by scooting. Each day I expect to find her motionless, but she is not ready yet.
Patience can be taught in many ways, I think. And creatures great and small can show us the way, if we stop to look.