An English In Kentucky



















February 15th 2009

    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 exciting.

tim candler

Previous  Next