It’s been two weeks since I returned from my month-long road trip, and I haven’t touched any clay.
My biggest project, a figurative sculpture triple-wrapped in plastic, peers down at me from the top of the bookcase, waiting to be unwrapped, or at least acknowledged.
I acknowledge you, incomplete creature.
What am I waiting for? The house to be clean? The yard to be pruned and ready for Fall? The broken stuff to be repaired? My beloved offspring to depart the nest? The gibberish in this blog to make sense?
It’s all about starting with a blank canvas. But I’m going for the empty nest excuse, as it gives me an extra week and a lot of mileage.
In the meantime, I’ve got a good handle on the yard. I even have enough time to get the house in order. So, I’ll take out my clay tools and arrange them on the table. I’ll unwrap my projects and see where they are in their various states of evolution or de-evolution. I’ll order supplies. I’ll make notes and sketches. I’ll make decisions. I’ll make hay while the sun shines.
And at the end of the week, when my darling daughter begins her new collegiate life, I’ll begin again, too.
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