I planted a clematis behind my studio. It's a beautiful wall of green. The tiny white flowers have a wonderful gentle fragrance. My kick wheel is right next to it. I love going out in the spring to throw pots. There is a short window of opportunity I take because soon the summer sun gets too hot and I am forced inside to continue my work via an electric wheel.
The vine followed me inside. It was a quiet companion that watched while I worked.
It took root in a bowl, quickly growing over the summer months.
It spilled over, flowing down the sides and entwining itself around the pots. Taking ownership of that which was once mine.
As the summer rolled on the clematis I planted grew thick and beautiful. The sun wasn't as strong now but I didn't return outside to my kick wheel. Instead, I felt the pressures of production pulling at me. I stayed inside to throw using the efficient conveniences of electricity to power my wheel. My vine didn't abandon me. It patiently stayed, reminding me of the rewards of the earth; the warm sun on my studio, the good dirt I plant a garden with or use to create pots, pottery that will hopefully be used by others in the pleasures given us by the earth, if we slow down enough to appreciate and breathe it in.