The rains cometh

We are well into cold misty mornings  and I have had the excitement of choosing my first wool sweater to wear to kick off the season.  But seriously, the change in season has been made more distinct by the quiet after the bulk of tourists and summer residents have packed up and left, flying south, like the geese that are now a common sight on all the beaches.  With that, many of the restaurants and retail shops are cutting back their hours to just a few evenings and weekends, with some already shut, like Lily’s our favorite ice-cream shop.  This is the economic reality of living in a summer tourist spot, on an island to boot.

The windswept landscape with low clouds and occasional bursts of sunshine are as poetic as they come and I find the cold quiet beaches a welcome relief, after the carloads of families with their cheery togs and summer cliches have headed back to the ‘burbs.  But Main Street’s quiet belies a frenetic local pace, as farmers and gardeners haul in their harvests and can, dry, smoke and pickle for the winter.

With the fall sports season winding down for island kids, musical instruction is on our horizon. Perhaps violin and ukelele?  The prospect of long dark winter afternoons filled with the strains (now I understand this deeper meaning) and whines of instruments performing under duress is surely more charming than the reality of being present. But music would be a perfect distraction for idle fingers confined indoors by the weather, and perhaps, it may keep those vicious raccoons and the odd heat seeking rodent away.

Adrift on a dish

Driftwood plates

A dish for sushi anyone? Oysters? Chocolate? Chocolate truffles.  This set of three started off as an idea for one large, long platter, made by laying and pressing together  flattened coils of toasted clay with flattened coils of white.  I wanted to test the need to blend the two clays.

Driftwood on Eastsound beach
Driftwood on Eastsound beach

The surface texture was meant to conjour up an image of sun-bleached driftwood washed asore and stacked high on the sand bank.  The holes add a textural element suggesting porousity and inherent decay, or as if it were being eaten from the inside by some insect.   By serendipity, someone knocked the shelf where it sat after bisque firing – and there must have been a fault line because of the minimal blending – but it fell into three separate parts of one long dish and two smaller ones.  I sanded it out, applied oxide over the surface, burnished it off and glazed it one colour. Fired. Voila!