I'm letting Suki Waterhouse's album drown out my feelings while I vacuum. While I make a smoothie. While I wipe the dust from around the record player. Loud, I want everything loud, so loud that it drowns out every last inch of space in my overly crowded mind.

I told myself I would read my book and wind down once I had finished my tea, but it’s now an hour later and my tea is cold and the room is dark and the glow of the computer screen hurts my eyes as I squint at it, determined to begin again — you see, I’m trying to find more ways to trick myself into writing because it doesn’t seem to be something that comes easily right now.

While we might not have the immediate satisfaction of selling our pieces in-person every single time we release a new collection of work, we are presented with an opportunity to make our pottery more accessible by giving those that want it, the opportunity to buy online, and in turn, maybe even taking some of the pressure off of the pressure we put on ourselves for the 3x yearly events.

While I’ve been familiar with nasturtiums my whole life, it wasn’t until I moved back to the pacific northwest that I fell head over heals for them

I didn’t feel that my expectations were on the studio tour itself, more but the process of creating pottery, and why it felt so important to me to re-establish that relationship

I’m sitting at my office desk, slowly packing for a flight I have later this evening, having just read a few of the comments a letter I wrote to Kona, our beloved dog that died in August