About
I have long believed that each person has a fire within, ignited in their childhood. Whatever we are drawn to so naturally in our tenderest, most pure years is somehow connected to what we are meant to be as an adult in one form or another. One day, while I was kneading the clay between my fingers, my soul remembered. As a little girl, my favorite pastime was making mud pies while the other children ran around the yard. Yes, even when my parents forced me to play outside, I found a way to hide away and make things with my hands. I can feel those moments as if they just happened. My dad and uncles working on some old car in the garages. My grandfather grinding some metal for his barrels or tending to the monstrous sunflowers in his garden. My mom, working wonders in the kitchen, caring for the baby, or leaning out the open window above me, pulling some freshly dried clothes off of the line. Our yard was all dirt. All of it. Dusty. Grimy. A city yard, for sure. But a little water poured in, turned it dark and magical. That dirt could become anything.
I hope you enjoy my childhood imagination revisting through these earthy pieces. Some are quite primitive. Some are more whimsical. But each one is made with love and a desire to not only remember, but inspire.
I live in the heart of southern New England with my husband, 6 children, and 3 grandchildren.
