I sought out clay at the tender age of 17. Not discovering a college that taught it, I headed for the open roads of North Idaho, Washington and Alaska. Twenty years it took to again discover the magic of clay – at the hands of a kind teacher 30 miles south of the Canadian border. Coming full circle I am once again in Tennessee, the home of my childhood – my hands in clay. Created from thought, hand, heart, humor and many long days. Pottery placed just so, a little pot here – sending the flame into the next – each getting a turn at becoming something to be used in everyday life. Something to eat from, serve with, drink from, something to bring a little joy, and anticipation at its very use.