As we fired Courtney's kiln in the wee hours of morning, we lamented the reality of this unusual vocation. So much work.
We were heavy with the long day and the stress of the unknown outcome of a kiln reluctant to climb in temperature and a woodpile that, despite it's loaves and fishes miracle, eventually succumbed to our zealous stoking. The stress will, hopefully, be redeemed for some pots that might reveal it's potter's love for the process.
We weather the storms of hard times because we live for the fire and the clay. With the door of the kiln bricked up the process of the firing is somewhat abstract. Temperature, pyrometric cones, smoke, heat, and light are the elements that concern us for the time being.
But with the door of the kiln opened, revealing it's bounty, we remember why we endure the process. the pots.