Clay Class

Lily and I have been taking a mother/daughter class downtown and usually we make separate projects. This week we had to work together though. Of course she wanted a faerie house and of course she had to furnish it. She described to me what she wanted and how to construct, I created and engineered the structure to her specifications.  The fireplace hearth is big enough for a tea candle. There is a vent hole for smoke. The bottom will strong enough to set on stones. The welcome mat has texture for wiping little boots.

It isn't finished yet. Next week we will paint and glaze it before it gets fired.

The class is more than art though. Lily and I get to talk, as we create. I am right by her side as she engages in an art she really really loves. Just like when Holly steps foot in a dance studio and lights up, Lily melts away her tough shell when she pries open the steel security door and dances down the hall to the clay studio. She doesn't have to be a big sister or a farm girl or perform for anybody here. In the studio she is Lily the artist. Lily with her own tools. Lily with her spot in the kiln. She cleans up after herself, shows the younger kids how to work machines that they have never used, and sings and smiles and laughs.

Then on the drive home we crank the windows down and the music up, sing as loud as we can while cruising down the rural highway home at dusk. We pull over to take pictures, we tell folklore stories, tonight she sang me a song in Nixie called Pinkora about a magical world with a giant pink moon that births fairies once a week. That's Pinkora with a rolling rrrrr.

This girl is the magic. I hope she always remembers that.