Thursday, May 29, 2014

A Red Fiesta Pitcher

Today, I got something I've wanted for a long, long time.  Today, I got a scarlet Fiestaware pitcher.

After the UPS man delivered it and entertained my dogs in the process, I unpacked it and simply stood at the sink for a moment.  I felt its heft, inspected the places on the inside where the red glaze hadn't quite changed color totally in the firing process, not a flaw but part of the character of the piece.

I sort of fell a little in love.

It doesn't seem like much to someone else, I'm sure.  It's only so much clay, so much glaze.  It's not a limited run item.  It's not exotic or even very expensive.

There's something about it, though, that enchants me.  Maybe it's the art deco lines I love so much. Maybe it's the vibrant color.  Maybe it's the connection to family that I've written about before.  It's hard to nail it down.

The piece had some warehouse dust on it, so next I washed it. There is something about hand washing something that you love that takes the work out of that action.  It was pleasing to see the glaze shine through the soap suds, to watch the water sheet across the surface and leave it clean.

I finished up by making some pink lemonade.  It wasn't fancy or exotic.  I used no lavender and no mint.  It came from a Country Time mix.  Okay, I did supplement it somewhat by adding juice from half a lemon I had in the fridge, but that's the only extra I did.  I put it in the fridge and walked the dogs.

When I came back, I got a glass, opened the refrigerator door, and took a moment to admire the pitcher.  I swear it made the whole inside of my fridge happy.  When I poured the lemonade and put it back, I shut the door with a smile and wandered back into the living room just a little happier.

I am learning slowly but surely to let the little things brighten up my days.  Life is full of so many of these little things, trivialities, really, that are actually capable of being tiny drops of balm if we would only look around and allow them to do their jobs.  It might not always be a pottery pitcher.  It might be the bloom on my cucumbers, the fuzzy white chin of my cat as she sleeps with her head propped on my shin, the clean wood of the new stair tread my father replaced today on my south porch.  It might be a butterfly landing on a chestnut tree in tassel.  It might be the sound of snoring dogs gathered around my chair.  It might be the absence of the sound of a 5 am alarm.  Whatever it is, I mean to try to appreciate it wherever it can be found.  It's so easy only to see the nasty and the grim.  God knows there's enough of those kinds of things to swamp us, to blind us to anything else.  I think, though, that there are plenty of these good things, too, if we will take the time to look.

There's still more pink lemonade in that pitcher.  Think I'll go get another glass.