The wife makes the most wonderful and
extraordinary things, and today we fired the fume kiln for her fumed-birds
and her fumed-faces. The white clay should turn black, with unknown
highlights and it should glow. A foolish prediction on my part, because
the fume kiln is wanton and without discipline.
The wood was dry, the wind was from the North. It took seven hours to
reach a satisfactory temperature and tomorrow around midday it should be
cool enough to open.
| During this waiting it
becomes increasingly difficult to think or to sleep. Not because we
are engaged in a mighty enterprise, but because opening the fume kiln is so very