Summer Pie Party

Donkey told Chicken that he would celebrate the first day of summer with a pie party.
"Am I invited?" Chicken asked.

"You may have the apple peelings." answered Donkey.

Donkey returned to his pink house and scoured his recipie box. This was one of his favorites, from Viv in the pie country of Stafford. http://www.hensteethart.blogspot.com/

In need of more pies, he trotted to Farmer Julie's and found her gathering beefsteak tomatoes.

He asked her to make a cox orange pippin apple pie.

"Am I invited?" asked Farmer Julie.

"Yes", said Donkey, "If you don't comment on table ediquitte."

So Farmer Julie made a pie. She kept the peelings for Chicken.
And she cut out the shape of a donkey with a toothpick and placed it on the top.
Hedgehog, however, made the tastiest pie of all. Strawberry rhubarb with a dash of lemon zest and extra cinnamon and a sprinkling of castor sugar on the top. It was a tiny triumph. She also wore her favorite bonnet.
All arrived at Donkey's on the first afternoon of summer.
They pulled their special cups from the sideboard. They ate pie, drank tea and gossiped.
There were some frightening manners displayed, but Farmer Julie kept right on sipping and smiling. After all, she was very happy to be in Donkey's pink house, with all of his pie-loving friends.

Happy Summer everyone!
xx
julie
juliewhitmorepottery.etsy.com

Mushroom Town

Trek far to the north,
lope uphill, then down;
When the woods turn thick
You're in Mushroom Town.

In winter there's a feast,

to mark the Christmas time;

Each creature brings a gift,

of food or song, or wine.

Mr. Leif Green

a culinarious fox

brings watercress soup,

and a silver snuffbox.

He loudly recites

a Shakespeare sonnet,

as he sips the soup

and pours sherry on it.

He gulps, he slurps,

his eyes shine green,

he's the shockingest diner

you've ever seen.

Tawny rabbits

in vest and pants

sing Christmas carols

and Gregorian chants

Greyish Wolf

will bring a pie,

if you like chicken,

please stop by.

Greyish ventures

out by night

and shops for fowl

by lantern light.

I'm quite appaled

that wolf has crashed,

(he wasn't asked)

There is a chair

saved just for you,

Please bring more tarts

and acorns too.

Squirrel will seat you

in a chair of green,

There's badger and donkey

and you in between.

The table's brimming

the candle's bright

O Merry Christmas

O Holy Night.

Update this weekend

xx

juliewhitmorepottery.etsy.com

A new workspace and I can't stop making pears

Thank you, sun, for blazing through the clouds this morning. I can now wear one tee shirt instead of three, reassure myself spring really is here, and take photos of my new claywork space.

A whole five foot worktable thats deep enough to allow me room for making larger pieces. Above which I've arranged some old plates and some of mine too. And a clock I like, which does not work, but reminds me not to fritter time away.

I can stretch out here, roll out big slabs to make things like this fourteen inch platter fresh from the kiln. A country lady with her donkey, rabbit and stripey stockings.

I don't have to scrinch in my elbows. And more than one spoon at a time!

A long bench to store clay, tools and works in progress. Can you see the boquet of lupin to the right? I risked jail time for that bunch of flowers. My mother informed me its against the law to pick them. I hope she doesn't drop a dime on me.

(Scene of the crime.)

See what I mean about pears? My sister and I decided this morning they are one of the most beautiful shapes in nature. Here they are drying on a shelf under a sunny window, which I can open when the afternoon sun hits. This was a bit of a motherlode in terms of time and sweat equity (Mostly my husbands), but I can't wait to arrive here in the morning, put on music and turn the lights on, one by one.

xx

julie

Look what Nina did with a couple of my simple bird charms..........

Isn't she amazing?

www.ornamental.typedad.com

juliewhitmorepottery.etsy.com

I Brake for Donkeys

I am partial to donkeys. If my father's people came from County Kerry in Ireland doesn't it follow that they may have owned a donkey to convey peat back to their cottage, and that donkey's name could of been Sally or Seamus? So its in the blood. Thats why I visited the Donkey ranch today in Harmony, just a few miles from our house.

They came up to visit me as I sketched. Donkeys like people. They are kind and sociable and I'm not just making that up. I have a first hand knowledge.The summer I was nine, the donkey ride came to our town and set up in the school playground.

I stood in line, plaid shirt starched , my favorite jeans turned up at the ankle and blue keds tied tight. I hoped for the furry, taffy colored burro with the flicking ears and thats just who I boarded. His name was Tommy. I thought I would take a benign stroll around the playground with the other kids who were riding at a steady gait in a large cirle, but Tommy had other ideas. Get away ones.

As soon as I was situated, bridle in hand, he tore off down the hillside and to the open field, carreening towards the eucalyptus grove. My ponytail streamed behind me as his hoofs pounded over the dry summer grasses. Soon the head handler galloped along beside me and bellowed "Tighten your knees!, Pull his head up!"

I knew riding terms from watching TV westerns, but for a moment I wanted to run off to the woods too. Me and Tommy camping under the canopy of stars, eating beans from an old tin pie plate while coffee percolated on a smouldering oak fire. But the ramrod cut us off and we stopped short. He pushed back his stetson and scratched his head. "Never seen the like" he said. and we turned and plodded back. My legs shook and my rear was sore, but I felt a little bit like Annie Oakley. I made plans to memorize cowboy songs and learn to play the harmonica.

Back at the playground I climbed off and felt sad to leave, but Tommy flicked his ears at me and almost sort of smiled. "What an adventure!" he seemed to say. and it was.

Donkeys can live to be fifty years old. That means my wild and free loving friend could be chewing spring grass in some field today, just like the one in Harmony. Maybe once in a while he even thinks of me. I know I think of him. Love ya, Tommy, wherever you are.

The tattered outlaw of the Earth,

Of ancient, crooked will

Starve, scourge, deride me

I am dumb

I keep my secret still.

from The Donkey by Chesterton

juliewhitmorepottery.etsy.com