January Roses

Heaven knows where they came from, but once again the Costco roses have been so vigorous and healthy that I can't resist taking a picture of them. I put them in my favorite pot*, made in a field outside his modest house by a Japanese 'Prefectural Treasure' while I watched him. Actually, he must have had a few more similar pots for sale for I was only there for a few hours. 

I had a few days' layover in Tokyo and had availed myself of a trip to various pottery and porcelain factories on the southern island of Kyushu Japan, a place which is well known for ceramics. I still love pottery...my house is full of it, mostly made by my friend, Marcia Dyer Crāpo...But I still have the pot made by the 'prefectural Treasure'. I wish I remembered his name, or even bothered to write it down when I heard it, if I ever did, but at least I have his pot in my house.

The man who led the tour, one Amaury St Gilles, a self described expert on Japanese folk art, did indeed organize an excellent tour that took us from Tokyo to small towns and provinces on the island of Kyushu where we saw Imari porcelain and  Korean Celadon being made in factories as well as individual artisans working in their studios. Aumaury, wearing an exotic shirt and flaunting an extraordinary accent that, like his name, was neither American or British English nor French, swanned about herding a gaggle of women bent on purchasing as much as they could stuff into their carry-on bags. Many years later I ran into him in the lobby of a hotel in Hawaii. By then I had a much greater appreciation for what he accomplished for us on that trip. He owns a gallery in Kona and wrote a book on Japanese Folk art called Mingei Japan's Enduring Folk Arts

I was flying on to Indonesia and could hardly drag a heavy clay pot around with me, but I was  entranced by the way the man, sitting on an upturned bucket, built a coil pot without benefit of a wheel, then smoothed it out by putting one hand inside and one hand with a small wooden paddle with a pattern carved in it on the outside. So entranced, in fact, that I bought the pot anyway. It cost far more to ship it home than I paid for it, but I have never regretted it.

I must be getting a bit garrulous as I camp on the couch, literally blowing my way through boxes of tissues and drinking hot water with honey and lemon. 
Nevertheless, as I am constantly saying...everything (and everyone) has a story. I somehow think we're all better off for knowing as many of them as we can.

*extra