On a blustery day some years ago, when he was quite small, my youngest son looked out the window at the lake and said: "Look at that rampage of waves!" And that's, of course, exactly what the waves were doing, rampaging. Others might call it whitecaps, but let's keep language accurate, shall we? They was a rampage of waves again the other day, see:
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| A Rampage of Waves |
The other thing is that I did some baking the other day - of clay, that is. Here's one of the pieces:
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| Squash Pot, 7.5", stoneware. |
That puddle in the bottom, that's molten glass. Shards from a smashed-up vodka bottle, to be precise, which I had chiefly bought for the lovely cobalt blue of the container. Well, I needed it to make vanilla extract (two vanilla beans in 3/4 c. vodka, steep for two weeks, use); but the clear glass bottle would have been cheaper. You know you're
addicted to blue glass when you buy booze according to the colour of the bottle. The glass crackled most satisfactorily once it cooled.
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| Glass Puddle In Squash Pot, 3", glass. |
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Life, the Universe, Rampaging Waves and Glass Puddles. The dish is for sale, the waves are not.
