Gristmill: The Heat of the Kiln
A brief snowfall triggers memories of Vermont and an uncle’s life there as a potter.
A brief snowfall triggers memories of Vermont and an uncle’s life there as a potter.
Presumably I have returned to work now, and am thus to some extent re-engaged in East Hampton’s life, and am feeling once again at least somewhat useful.
Offer me coffee and I feel special. A chance to shine, to be heard. Inevitably, all eyes turn to me when I announce, “No thanks, never had a cup in my life.”
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