It's official

Clayfolk 2021 has been cancelled.

The show had a rocky road from the start. At first, it wasn't certain we'd have enough applications to pay for the hall, but enough came in at the deadline to pass our 70-booth minimum, with a comfortable cushion. We'd contacted our person at the Armory to reserve the weekend before Thanksgiving, our usual date, back in spring when it looked like with vaccinations we might actually be getting a handle on this pandemic.

Then everything fell apart.

First, there was the Delta variant, and the new surge in cases. Then we learned that our contact at the Armory had moved on to a new job, and hadn't passed on our reservation to their successor. Once again, they'd booked our date to someone else. They offered a half-price rental for Thanksgiving weekend or the first weekend of December.

The board sent out a survey to the general membership, asking for feedback about those dates for an indoor show, or interest in an outdoor event held at the Expo center earlier in the fall--late September or early October. The Survey results were released yesterday, in a letter that concluded:

The Board met yesterday (via Zoom) and decided not to pursue a Show this year (yes, it's official). We based this decision on the information provided in the survey and the uncertain future of the evolving pandemic, specifically for a venue in southern Oregon. Though we love our big Show, the health risk to our artists and customers is currently too great. Our treasurers will be coordinating the refund process for all applicants.

I think they made the right call. Vaccination rates are finally climbing in Southern Oregon, but they're still not great, and I suspect mask policing would be a real problem. I've gotta say, I'm feeling relieved.

Playing hooky

As of Sunday morning, I was down to 10 lbs of clay, with no sure delivery date for my next ton order. Denise had the back yard set up for paper-making, with invites out to her book group to mask up and come play. One member came early on Friday, another on Sunday. Which meant there was plenty of space for me to join in.



I played a lot with purple t-shirt and blue jean pulp, diluted with white Braille paper. Denise made more red-shirt pulp (that actually survived the away mission!) and goldenrod pulp from manila envelopes. I also used a fair bit of cooked daffodil leaves, which gave all the linear texture you see above.

The last bag

What can I make with the last ten pounds of clay?

Salt and pepper shakers. They're only three-quarters of a pound each, plus a smidge more for the ears. I had just enough for thirteen. Four dogs, six cats (someone had purchased a mis-matched set at Silverton)...

And three experimental elephants.

The freight company promises delivery this afternoon. I can hardly wait.

Canning weather

Temperatures dropped a good ten degrees Monday and Tuesday, down to high 60s/low 70s. I had no clay for the studio; what can I find to occupy my time?

Yup, it's canning season.

We didn't can tomatoes last year. Had an abundance of sauce from previous years, and also the world was on fire. Literally. During the week or so I had to can in, ash was falling like snow and I couldn't open the kitchen windows to let out the heat.

About three weeks ago, we used up the last of our home-canned tomato sauce--I thought, more anon--so I started looking for a chance to restock. Yesterday was perfect.

Except for the fact that canning lids were totally unavailable. Winco had non, BiMart had none, and the staffer I talked to said they couldn't get them anywhere. Everybody had jars with lids and rings, but I have a pantry full of empty jars, so really didn't want to buy more.

Denise did an inventory, We had exactly a dozen narrow mouth lids left, about two-and-a-half dozen wide mouths. So I went hunting. I have far more narrow-mouth jars, of course, but I did manage to round up eleven wide. I also found six more jars of tomato sauce in the cupboard above the fridge, five still good (the seal had failed on the sixth).

After that, it was the usual. Trim, cut and sweat green onions. Wash and slice the mushrooms--I discovered that hoary old food hack actually worked, cut them up with a hard-boiled-egg slicer. Saute them with salt, pepper and olive oil 'til they're yummy and brown.

Rinse and stem the tomatoes. Realize I don't have enough, so drive up to the farm stand for another box.

Fill every bowl in the house with tomatoes. I'm a potter. That's a lot of bowls. Slice them into wedges; I don't bother to skin. Hey, it's roughage! Heat up two heavy-bottomed stock-pots on the stove, drizzle in some olive oil, dump in a big bowl of tomato wedges. Twenty-four shakes of dried basil, eighteen of oregano, and a big bay leaf. Stir well, cover, and come back to stir again every five minutes for half an hour. At this point, the tomatoes have broken down nicely, and you can pour the sauce back into the bowls and fish out the bay leaves. Clean off any stuck-on bits of tomato from the bottom of the pot, rinse and dry, put back on still-hot burner. (This is important to keep the next batch from sticking down and burning.) Repeat until all tomatoes are cooked.

Take a break for supper--I ran about six ladles through the food mill, added brown sugar, tomato bouillion (basically red salt), white pepper and home-grown thyme to make tomato soup, served with grilled-cheddar sandwiches. Start the canner full of water boiling while you eat. I also ran the canning jars through a short cycle of plain hot water in the dishwasher--they'd been washed the previous night--so they'd be hot and sterile-ish.

After supper, we mixed in the mushrooms and onions, filled the jars (first adding two tsp of lemon juice to be sure they had enough acid. Romas should be fine, but I want to be sure). Added sterile lids and rings, and simmered in the water-bath canner for 35 minutes. And repeat.

At noon, we had fifty lbs. of tomatoes, four bunches of green onions, and a couple of pounds of mushrooms. By 10:30 we had 21 quarts of sealed tomato sauce, and another not-quite-full jar in the fridge.

Not a bad day's work.

Whups

Clay came right at lunchtime. The driver, who's gotten very good at backing up our driveway from River Road, caught a gap in the traffic and zipped right in. Backed up a little closer, he said, because the pallet was extra heavy.

Okay, I said, But I ordered a ton, same as usual.

After he'd left and I finished my waffles, I went to hand-truck the clay into my studio, and found out he was right. I'd ordered a ton; they sent me a pallet: capacity 2400 lbs.

Oh sure, I'll use it up, eventually. Problem is, I really only have space in my studio to store forty boxes of clay. Where am I gonna put the other eight?