Winter is usually my high-concentration time. Long evenings, staying in as opposed to going out, finishing little projects that wouldn't see the light of day in the summer. Usually I use winter to tuck into some big, fat books. And my glazes for the last few months have been the cream and white and icy blues of the season.
But I must be over all this snow. I have Spring on the brain. My concentration is lacking and I keep bringing work upstairs so I can look outside. I don't want complicated plot lines and deep characters! I want poems and snippets and pretty word pairings. My fancy has turned to poetry. My work has turned to flowers and birds, and words. Flowers: Little flower-patterned dishes, Rosie candles, a new lamp design with "petals" like a peony. Birds: 20 little ceramic birds in clover green, carnation pink, lemon and blue bonnet; birds on the lip of a Tweet candle, on the shoulder of a Tweet lamp. Words: my new "Bloom" pots, with Molly Bloom's final words carved into their sides. I have abandoned my beloved, glassy high-fire glaze for the pop colors of low-fire. Can there be seasonal change in ceramics and literature? It's a little early for this, isn't it? Damn that groundhog!
So on my weekly trek to our excellent Princeton Public Library, I passed right by New Fiction. I headed upstairs to the poetry section. I pulled two favorite poets: Miss Emily Dickinson, the careful, amused observer of the natural world around her, and mr. e.e. cummings, the colorful, sing-song bard of the fractured word.
Dear March - Come in -
How glad I am -
I hoped for you before -
Put down your Hat -
You must have walked -
How out of Breath you are -
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest -
Did you leave Nature well -
Oh March, Come right up the stairs with me -
I have so much to tell -
I got your Letter, and the Birds -
The Maples never knew that you were coming -
I declare - how Red their Faces grew -
But March, forgive me -
All those Hills you left for me to Hue -
There was no Purple suitable -
You took it all with you -
Is it sacrilege to follow the elegant Miss Dickinson with e.e.? Maybe. But I think mr. cummings, the saucy little minx, is up to it.
can dy lu
greens coo l choc
tive s pout
Both hopeful, both Spring, both violet and purple. I'm thinking I should order some new glaze.