Commitment and water — I saw the relationship a couple of weeks ago at my first outdoor show of the season in wonderful Marion, Iowa. 50 artists in the city square of this quaint small town. The weather forecast was bleak: rain and more rain.

When my daughter, Antara was small — she loved springtime mostly for the mud. She was happy in her waterproof boots, splashing in puddles and making mud pies. These days, in the studio, working with clay, I have become that happy little girl. playing in the mud!

I believe to create art –to write to sing to make — expresses our true voice. It is a political as well as personal act. Art connects us, reminds us of our shared humanity, can open our hearts. I find literal “grounding” in the touch of clay, and constant amazement in the form it takes in my hands.

A big part of art camp in Mexico this year was watching the light. Staying in our casa close to the ocean’s roaring pulse, pre-dawn light would awaken us. We walked the beach to meet the sun. In the gentle morning light, I would search the beach for ocean gifts brought by the night tide.

Every day is filled with the unknown — with our schedules and expectations, we build a sureness so that we don’t have to think about it, until there is a crisis or some huge change — like now. How do we keep from falling into fear and despair when the uncertainty seems to loom so large?

I have started a daily gratitude practice. Re-inspired by Tom Glasser’s book, Full Heart Living – sometimes it’s the first thing I do when I open my eyes in the morning. Lately it has become a kind of ritual, to sit with my cup of tea and, as my mother used to say, “Count my blessings.”

It is a fall tradition that I must make time for. In these lingering, balmy autumn days, I opened the windows of my dear South Minneapolis home – and washed them! I know that I will be spending more time inside, looking out, during the winter – and I want that clarity.

It’s in the air, the light… that unmistakable shift. Here in Minneapolis, the uppermost leaves of the maple trees have begun their colorful transformation.

I have been blissfully immersed in clay! The pure sensuality and flexibility of the clay continues to enthrall me. Bringing the fire to transform these pieces to strong forms feels like magic. Adding color to the surface texture with acrylic paint is like frosting on the cake!

I started this monthly communique to you, a year ago, today — on my birthday! This gift to myself, an honoring of the 29th each month through the year is an enjoyable and necessary pause for me — to reflect on my life and art, and communicate some aspect of that.

The lilacs were on the verge of bloom in early May here in Minneapolis, when I traveled five hours north to Grand Marais, a small, artful town hugging the North shore of Lake Superior. Spring was still a promise there as I gathered with nine other women to make art…