Friday, June 15, 2012

out of his beginnings

One of the things I love about Salt Spring Island is that country roads are dotted with signs welcoming the wanderer in to all manner of artists studios. Outside bleached shingled porches, cats lap from exquisite pottery dishes. Through the screen door, paintings can be seen propped against the wall in darkened hallways, and wind chimes ring and echo on the afternoon breeze, sweetly salt.
On one long ago vacation, we found ourselves at a wood turners shop. He graciously ushered us into his workshop. Chunks of wood awaited the transforming power of chisel, and the counter was strewn with tools and pencils and wood chips. As the men chatted about the merits of motor and wheel, I gazed in wonder at a trio of dusty wooden vases. They were apparently early attempts and the wood turner rewarded my rapt gaze and murmur of admiration by handing them over: a gift out of his beginnings.

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