In my last post I said these winter days are beautiful, but today I woke up with very little patience for the snow. Looking out the window I could barely make out the car parked outside for all the snow piled everywhere, and the chill seeping through the glass reminded me how cold the floor would be when I got out of bed. Of course, Nina was already awake, I could hear her singing from the kitchen, and the smell of the coffee she was making did manage to warm my mood a drop.
I spent the day in the studio; I had a bunch of classes in the afternoon, and I must say I was very impressed with my students for showing up. I’m not sure if the seventeen-year-old me would’ve braved the snow just for a sculpting class. In fact, I’m not even sure how the sixty-three-year-old me managed to do so! Of course, I love my trade, and the teaching as well, but the clay gets so unbelievably cold. And of course, it renders those winter hand-creams that Nina buys me practically pointless. But still, there’s nothing more satisfying then the feeling of clay as you shape it into a masterpiece.
