My fascination with clay began in Georgian Bay. Our grandparents had a cottage near Owen Sound and we spent our family summer vacations there.

The water is clear, deep and very cold, so we found other things to do besides swim to occupy ourselves. Besides being rocky, there was plenty of naturally occurring clay in the water. You can see where this is going, right? I started playing with clay. Our Grandpa was a very good sport and claimed to love the ashtrays we made him! They were crude pinch pots adorned with small rocks and left to dry in the sun. He would rest his pipe in the ashtray and when it broke, which they inevitably did, there were several more waiting in the wings.

That was many years ago but I have dabbled in clay all my life. As my sister mentioned in an earlier post, pottery seems to be in our DNA. I have graduated from those early pinch pots to wheel thrown mugs and bowls that last a little longer than Grandpa’s ashtrays!


2 thoughts on “clay

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