the shed

more shed.

at one am the sky was clear with no moon and the air cool and soft; the stars seemed very close and large against the velvety blackness. I woke this morning to leaf patterns in the sunshine dancing on the old linen curtain that shades my shed bedroom. most mornings there is sunshine early.

snails had left their trails on the rough boards of the veranda under the rose leaves, like wandering lines of silver thumb prints reflecting the light of the low and misty sun.

the green light that enters the room is filtered by a vigorous climbing rose which has leapt up onto the tiled roof and looks like taking over the shed. this summer the whole garden has become very jungle-like, sticky goose grass has swarmed up the hedge and into the young apple trees, nettles taller than me surround my pile of prunings stacked for winter kindling, and the sycamores behind the rusty old pig sheds are spreading their branches over the roof. my rain-water butt is tainted by their leaves.

the grass is heavy with hayseed now and lines the path, brushing dew onto my legs. I have to take care not to knock the apples off the little Beauty of Bath tree which has grown its slender new branches across the space, despite a ruthless prune this winter.

flowers are threaded through the shaggy mane of grasses; all the usual wildflowers – poppy, mallow, knapweed, lady’s bedstraw, yarrow, even the goose grass has a pretty tiny white flower foaming over the green.

the next biscuit firing is nearly ready. I put this group of pots with thumbed porcelain inlay in the kiln this morning, they are dried out enough. this clay body is an experiment – a mixture of the terracotta crank and my usual crank – I am hoping the stoneware crank in the mix will help the terracotta cope with the higher temperature glaze firing. I need to make three more tall narrow pieces to fill the kiln.

I have made one big piece which I will take to Hertfordshire in its raw state to go in Gas Kimishima’s “Moby” anagama kiln for his wood firing event.