What doesn’t kill you…
A.V. Walters
The glow and promise of raku!
Yeah, right. It’s raining, and we have to go purchase building materials, and go vote. That means we have a day off from working at the site. We bemoan this, though we really need it. We both ache. There are times, at the end of the day, that I’m so tired I want to roll into bed without so much as dinner. (Though, I’m not going without a glass of wine!)
I know that this adventure is both taking its toll, and building us up. We’ve both dropped weight (though Rick is downright skinny and I’m beginning to bake goodies, to fatten him up a bit.) I have forearms like Popeye. I guess it’s making us stronger.
Actually, I know it. We took a couple of days at Labor Day to go visit my Mum. She’s a potter and had weekend plans to participate in a raku firing event. For those who may not know, a raku firing is a fire-filled, fast, somewhat ceremonial, blast furnace of a ceramic kiln firing. It’s a blast. From my childhood as a potter’s daughter, raku meant party. It combined the best of everything—fire, good food, a soupçon of danger, and that ooh-aah factor every time you open a kiln. Anyway, though I said that she’d need help with the event, I really just wanted to be there—to help and to live the fun that is raku.
The fired pot–headed for reduction in wood chips.
As we loaded up the truck (kiln, tongs, gloves, pots, and propane) I grabbed her two, small propane tanks. They felt empty.
“Mom, we’ll need to stop and get fuel—these are near empty.”
She gave me a funny look. “No, I exchanged them last week.”
I hefted them again, two tanks at arms length, and and shrugged.
Rick came over to resolve the debate. “The seals are still on those tanks—they’re full.”
I looked down. Lugging one tank is normally work—two tanks would not usually be within my capacity. So, I guess it’s true. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. It was a great firing and a great day.
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