Tribute to The Lonely Potter's Father

With the commencement of a new job and a commitment to complete my TESL Certificate this year,there has been no time to write since August. Then, at 1:00 a.m. on Novemer 6th,  the Lonely Potter received news which merits spending time and effort to record. As Linda Loman said, in "Death of a Salesman", "Attention must be paid.".

Paul Vetterli and I shared the same birthday, but we were only able to spend it together a few times. He lived in Switzerland all his life, while I lived in Canada. It's a little too far to travel for a birthday party. He was born in 1915, so he had 95 birthdays before last Saturday. There will be no more.

Father Vetterli, as I called him, was a gentle man who had lived through some astonishing times. He was born to a well to do family in Switzerland. His father had a transport company and other business interests. Things were going well until Paul's mother died. His father remarried, and his new wife wanted nothing to do with the children of the first marriage, especially once she had a son of her own. Paul was sent to work on farms from the time he was ten years old. He was paid, but all the money was sent back to the step-mother, who was a very good manager of money, and she made sure the family business prospered. Paul never profited from this success, but somehow he remained a kind, warm person, untainted by bitterness.

He was working in a cellulose factory when he met his wife, a daughter of Italian immigrants, just before World War II. They couldn't have been more different in temperament. She was quick of wit and temper, and they argued often. He began working as a trucker, enjoying his long days of peace and quiet on the road. They lived in several small towns around the Bodensee, going where the work was. She continued to work, even  when the children were small. They needed every dime she could earn to put food on the table. At one point they lived in an apartment they rented from Paul's father. The strain in the family made it difficult for either Paul or his wife to make the trip to pay his father's wife the monthly rent. They sent the Lonely Potter instead. Even as a child, he had a reputation for being charming, so perhaps they hoped he could charm their way back into the family wealth. It didn't work.

Paul and his wife taught their work ethic to their three children. The Lonely Potter left Switzerland, joining the merchant marine as soon as he legally could. This made him a vagabond in the eyes of the folks back home. It seemed that his relationship with his mother never recovered, and she died disappointed that her golden child hadn't become a banker. Paul, however, loved hearing about his son's adventures, and was absolutely delighted when the Lonely Potter became a rancher. Paul loved animals and the first thing he wanted to know whenever we called him was how the horses were.

We were able to make two trips to Switzerland to see Paul, in 2006 and 2007. He was alert and active. We drove all over Switzerland and Lichtenstein with him as our guide. He remembered every road and village from his days as a trucker. His directions were flawless, although after dark he had to think a little. He wanted to be included in everything we did on those visits, and we didn't get him back to his care home until after midnight on a few occasions. The staff were thrilled. Really. They loved Paul too, and they were happy to see him enjoying himself so much. By 2008, though, we were getting reports that his travelling days were done.

We had been thinking that the time was coming for one last visit, but we waited too long. Paul was playing cards and joking with his friends and family on a Sunday, and died in his sleep the following Friday, from  pneumonia. There was nothing that could be done.

He will be missed. Attention is being paid.

Paul Vetterli

September 26 1915 to November 5 2010

A Gentle Giant Comes to Help the Lonely Potter

The main topics of conversation around here for the last few weeks have been forest fires and smoke. Everything has been revolving around whether the fires that surround us are growing or moving, whether to be worried about evacuating, and how to cope with the terrible smoke that has brought outside activity to a stop. Yesterday, then, was like the first day of spring after a terrible winter. There had been enough rain in the night to wash the smoke out of the air, and there was enough of a breeze to keep the smoke away. The lonely potter and I decided to spend as much of the day outside as we could, since there was no way of knowing how long this reprieve would last. We had no idea that we were on an island sticking out of an ocean of smoke, and that out of that ocean would come someone who needed to do some physical work due to a bad case of smoke induced cabin fever. At last, the silver lining to the smoke clouds!

He arrived in a beat up pick-up truck with peeling paint and newly repaired muffler. When he got out, he towered above the cab of the truck. A tall, muscle bound man with long blond hair. Sparky grovelled shamelessly at his feet. In a thick German accent he explained that the smoke at his place was still really bad and his wife had invited her girlfriends to spend the day, so he had to get out of there. Did we need help splitting wood? 

I should explain that this gentle giant was not a total stranger. The farrier we have had ever since we moved here is a woman. A very tough woman, who has not had an easy life. A couple of years ago she decided that she didn't like it here and was going home to Manitoba. She disappeared in the fall that year, and we thought she was gone. We tried to find another farrier all that winter, with no luck. Then, in the spring, she called and asked if our horses needed a hoof trim. Surprised, we said sure, and she arrived, along with her new husband! This was our first meeting with the gentle giant. It was followed by several more meetings, as our farrier has been dealing with crippling pain in her back and hips, and  her husband is slowly taking over more and more of her work. Fortunately he appears to be an excellent physical specimen who revels in hard work.

In response to the gentle giant's question about wood splitting, the lonely potter supplied the chainsaw, axe and maul, and left the gentle giant to his rhythmic work. Thunk! Set the block of wood on the chopping block. Whack! One blow with the maul. Chunk! Chunk! Two cleanly split pieces of wood tossed onto the wood pile. Hour after hour this went on, while the lonely potter hurried to stack the wood as the gentle giant split it, and I tried to carry on with potting herbs for winter instead of staring at the jaw dropping amount of work that was being done across the fence. Even the discovery of a hornet nest and the resulting sting only slowed him down a for a few minutes. In gratitude, I picked raspberries, apples and rhubarb and made some pies for him to take home (and maybe for us too).

When the last piece of wood had been split, the lonely potter convinced the gentle giant to stay for supper, which, fortuitously had already been planned. So, not only did this wonderful man take a day out of his life to help the lonely potter with a chore that would have been almost impossible to do alone, he then spent a couple of hours raving about the lonely potter's cooking and looking at photo albums of the ranch. What a prince. Sparky would not leave him alone, trying all kinds of antics to get his attention, which the gentle giant obligingly laughed at while rough housing with Sparky to his heart's content. Both dog and master had a very good day.

The Lonely Potter Prepares to Fight Fire

Three weeks of living in the reek of forest fire smoke does not create complacency. It does create a desire, a need even, to DO SOMETHING! This urge kicked into high gear today when we learned that new areas nearby are being evacuated, and there is a danger of high winds and lightening this evening, which makes it impossible to guess where the next fire will take hold.

So, the lonely potter left the cool, unsmokey studio for the hot, smokey outdoors. First he hosed down, by hand, with a garden hose,  every inch of ground and all the trees within a twenty foot radius of the house.  Then he lugged hose, sprinklers, and whatever he could manufacture to attach the sprinklers onto the roof, and let the sprinklers run until the roof and deck were dripping wet. Meanwhile, helicopters flew by every few minutes, the sun went down in flames, and the ducks on the pond just kept on swimming.

The Lonely Potter and the Lonely Rooster

We have seen a lot of things on our daily dog walk in the woods. Birds, squirrels, rabbits, deer, moose,cows, a bear, a lynx, ATVs, other dog walkers, people doing bad things, people doing good things, and lots of interesting flora and fauna. One thing we never expected to see was a chicken. Or a rooster. A rooster that caught our attention by crowing loud and long, in the forest, in the middle of the day.

Why are they there? How did they get there? How do they manage to survive? If we catch them and bring them home, where will we put them?

We have visited the rooster and his hen four times now. The last two times the lonely potter took some grain, and sent me back to the car with the dogs so he could have some alone time with the feathered folks. The rooster is still too cautious or dignified to allow the lonely potter to get close, even with the grain offering. The second time the chicken, however, greeted the lonely potter and his grain by running up and happily clucking, as though she had been waiting . Have no doubt that the lonely potter will persist until either the rooster too is his friend or is no longer in the forest.

If the rooster comes to live with us, will he continue to crow at all hours?

The dogs and I await the lonely potter after his chicken visit

Egyptian Plagues and Exodus

When the ground appears to be moving, and I can't walk across the yard without massacring several tiny toads, two things occur to me. First, I wonder how long I can stay in the house before I absolutely have to go out, then I think about the plagues sent to Egypt to convince Pharaoh to release the Children of Israel.

According to Wikipedia, there were ten plagues. So far this year it feels like we have had about half of them.

The first, making the Nile river turn red with blood, we can skip. The resultant fish kill, however, is similar to a little incident that happened in Kelowna last week. End of the world predictors love that kind of thing.

The second,  hoards of frogs, well that's how this story started. So far we have only had to shoo a few out of the garage and the shop, and they seem to be moving towards some destination across highway 20, much to the consternation of people travelling down the highway when they come upon a 100 yard stretch of road covered with black gravel, that moves. Let's hope this plague is almost over for this year.

Lice, the third plague, we have avoided so far this year. And that is no mean feat, given how much time we spend with our animals, and how much time they spend outside.

Flies that cause harm to animals and people, the fourth plague, we have in droves. Tiny flies that torment the horses, horse flies that take chunks out of places like the middle of the back, mosquitoes that wait till dark to attack people and animals alike,  and deer flies that light and bite, leaving an itchy spot that drives you mad.  Yes, we have plague number four.

The fifth, livestock deaths, may not have happened in plague proportions, but the loss of two out of four horses in inexplicable circumstances, feels like a plague.

The sixth is boils, and you  can't appreciate how wonderful it is to not have boils unless you have had them. I have, but that was many years ago, and I really hope I will never have them again.

Hail (mixed with fire, just to make a point) is number seven. We have had some hail, but not enough to do damage. We are surrounded by fires, but  so far the hail/fire mix has missed us.

The locusts, number eight, will likely miss us too, although the flying grasshoppers have become really big and numerous during the drought. When one hits you in the face, you feel it. If they eat my garden I will be mad.

Number nine was three days of darkness. Does a week of smokey twilight count? If Yahweh had thought of that one he might not have needed number ten, the death of all first born children.

The Israelites had their Exodus - will the lonely potter have his? The Internet makes it possible to take a look at the other side of the fence,or several other fences, and when the grass on your side of the fence is looking dead and brown, it sure can be attractive over there. Thoughts of moving somewhere with a more pleasant climate, fewer biting flies, and more access to the finer things of life have been growing for the past while. Will these thoughts bear results? Stranger things have happened.

Where the toads came from? The pond at the bottom of our yard.

The Lonley Potter Has a Visitor and Finds Inspiration

 I hope that none of my readers have been under the apprehension that the goal of the lonely potter is to produce pottery for the market place. If so, please put this concept aside and learn to accept, as I have, that the lonely potter will never produce marketable quantities of  work that he deems good enough to sell. The point of this pottery journey is...the journey.

While he does seem to enjoy the completion of an interesting piece, the only times I have seen obvious signs of pleasure during this journey have been when the lonely potter was teaching or demonstrating different facets of his craft to an appreciative audience.  So it was with great pleasure that I returned from a week in Alberta with, not one, but two fans of the lonely potter's work. In fact, on a previous visit, John had learned how to throw a pot on the wheel and had produced two recognizable pots. As soon as the lonely potter heard that John would be stopping by again, he began preparing for a day of raku, so John's pots could be fired one day and ready to travel the next. Nancy, who arrived with John, has been a willing recipient of the lonely potters' product in the past, and he was counting on her to take a few more away on this visit. To top all this, the lonely potter had been saving a ten year old bottle of  Tokaj wine to share with someone who might appreciate it. So, a day of raku and wine was planned.

In preparation for the visit, the lonely potter had done another experimental sawdust firing, using newly discovered techniques involving copper wire and moss soaked in salt.  The results, of course, were dismissed as not what he wanted. If, however, one did not know what he wanted, I think they are very interesting, so, here they are:

I had made the trip to Alberta and back with John and Nancy. We had had very good luck avoiding traffic accidents, tornadoes and flash floods, but it became clear that we were not going to dodge the smoke from the forest fires raging through the interior of B.C. . We watched the smoke getting darker and closer as we came closer to our destination. We watched big airplanes and small helicopters flying into the smoke, and wondered how close the fires were to the lonely potter. 

Close enough, it turns out, that the air was more smoke than  air and the sky had an eerie orange glow, while the sun was a light orange dot in the sky.  Combined with 30+ temperatures, and vegetation either crispy or wilting, John and Nancy were having flashbacks to their trip to Australia during bush fire season. The good thing was that the smoke from the pottery firing would be totally obscured by the smoke in the air already, so we were unlikely to be bothered by neighbors worried about what we were burning.

It was a good day, despite the smoke, although a few hours after Nancy had washed, vacuumed and polished Susanna's car, it was sprinkled with ash...

After a day in the smoke, showers and baths were enjoyed by all. Then a good meal and a good night's sleep.

The Lonely Potter Meets the Lonely Vacuum Cleaner Salesman

I think my reaction to the caller might have shaken her confidence, but she carried on cheerfully explaining how lucky I was, while I responded with single syllable monotone mumbles. Thanks to a survey I didn't remember doing, I had won a choice of a free weekend stay at my choice of over 100 hotels, or (surprise) a set of knives. Their representative, Dave, was available to deliver my prize at 5:30 that day. Didn't that sound wonderful? All she asked was that we give Dave a few minutes of our time to explain the Vortech air cleaning system, so we could tell all our friends and relatives how wonderful it was. I don't like intrusions on my privacy, especially on hot days when I don't feel great and have other things to do. Something told me, however, that Dave was going to be available to deliver the prize for some time to come, so we might as well receive our gift and get it over with.

We got through the day, accomplishing a surprising amount considering the heat, and when we returned from our daily dog walk at 4:00, the lonely potter went off to the studio to trim some pots. This worried me a bit, because I was hoping that we would have supper finished by the time Dave showed up, but I didn't say anything. Pots in need of trimming cannot wait for a more convenient time. Dave would just have to deal with what ever was happening when he arrived.

One of the errands we had run during the day was a trip to the butcher's where I picked up some soup bones as a treat for the dogs. They were frozen and I thought they would help to cool down our hot dogs after the walk. By 4:10 each dog had a bone - Sparky locked in the garage, Buffy alone on the front porch, and Max and Chloe sharing the back deck. Separating the dogs during bone chewing time was the only way to stop Sparky from stealing and burying everyone else's bones. For an hour it was blissfully quiet.

By 5:00 I had the lonely potter's supper ready, and was waiting for him. At 5:10 he came in. "Just enough time", I thought, "to have a quick bite before Dave arrived at 5:30". Of course when the lonely potter came in the house, so did Sparky and Buffy. I checked on Chloe and Max on the back deck and saw that they hadn't just chewed their bones, they had eaten them. Wow. Do not put your hand in the mouth of a hungry Belgian, unless you don't need your fingers. It was still really hot outside, so I took pity on Max and Chloe and let them in the house to continue cooling off  while digesting frozen soup bones.

Dave was early. Our door bell does not work, has never worked as far as I know, but with Sparky around we don't really need a door bell. The lonely potter and I are stone deaf compared to Sparky, who can hear a car turning into the driveway if he is in the farthest corner of the house and the radio, t.v. and stereo are all turned on full blast. He expresses his joy at having a visitor by wildly barking and jumping at the door. Soon Buffy joins in with her sharp, worried sounding, scary bark, while peering at the door from a safe distance. Then the two Belgians begin excitedly milling around the doorway, silent but big, with huge mouths open and  panting. This is what greeted Dave when he came to the door.

Credit to Dave that he didn't run back to his vehicle and drive off right then. Of course he was burdened  with his vacuum cleaner and very large satchel, so a hasty retreat would have been at least undignified, at worst impossible. I did what I could to salvage the situation. Sparky was outside happily peeing on Dave's tires. Buffy had retreated to the safety of the bedroom. I cornered Chloe and shooed her onto the deck, and Max had vanished. Oh well, I would put him out when he showed up again. I put my supper aside, and sat down in the living room with Dave, while the lonely potter finished his supper and sipped a long awaited cold beer. I felt sorry for Dave, who was beginning to perspire,  and almost offered him a cold drink, but then I thought that if he was thirsty he might finish quickly and leave so I could get back to my supper.

Dave pulled up a chair in front of me and prepared to begin his demonstration. Max appeared from nowhere, rushed up to Dave in greeting, opened his enormous mouth, and threw up the most disgusting and surprisingly large pile of masticated bone, gristle, marrow and slime I have ever seen, on the carpet, about one foot away from Dave's satchel.  It is difficult to intimidate Max. He is just so big he does not fear anything or anyone.  But, after he finished throwing up and just as he was about to slurp up the disgusting mess, he glanced at my face. He forgot about eating his sick and began to run for the back door. As I chased him down the hall to the door, he threw up again.

Dave did not leave. By the time I had returned to the living room with my cleaning equipment, Dave had moved into the dining room and was discussing ranching, investing, and life in general with the lonely potter. The lonely potter, relaxed after consuming most of his supper and beer, seemed to be enjoying the discussion, so I left them at it while I spent the next 10 minutes with a dust pan, a carpet cleaning machine, and various rags and cleaning potions. Once the evidence of the interruption had been cleaned and covered with towels, Dave resumed his seat in the living room and the lonely potter joined us for the demonstration.

There is no doubt that the Vortech vacuum cleaner is a very powerful machine, and probably would give years of satisfaction. There is also no doubt that the hose and wand of our 10 year old Hoover are wrecked beyond repair and I can't find replacement parts, and I had lately been having problems with the cord shorting out. The Hoover, however, is paid for and still has great suction. One could say that the Hoover really sucks. But the Vortech, we finally forced Dave to admit, cost over $2600.00. That kind of money would go a long way towards replacing the ruined wall to wall carpet with some indestructible flooring. As I listened to the lonely potter agreeing with Dave that it really wasn't too much to pay for such a great machine, I wondered what on earth they had been talking about while I cleaned up dog puke. Suddenly I believed Dave's boast that he makes a sale at 8 out of every 10 homes he visits. The guy is an incredible salesman.

Fortunately, I was hot enough, tired enough, mad enough, and mean enough to just say, "We Can't Afford It", leaving no room for discussion. Just as I said these words, Sparky started barking again, and there was our neighbor driving in the driveway with a load of hay, fresh from the hay field. I rushed out to see what he wanted,  leaving the lonely potter to help Dave put all his various bits of equipment and papers away, and to accept delivery of  the "gift" of knives. As far as I was concerned, our obligation was fulfilled, and unless Dave was going to offer to vacuum the house, the visit was over.

I noticed was that our neighbor looked really hot, so I ran back to the house to get him a cold beer. As I was going in, Dave was going out. By the time I got back with the beer, he was peeling out of the driveway, something he had probably wanted to do an hour before. I don't think we'll be seeing Dave again any time soon.

The evening wasn't a total disaster. Our neighbour was offering some decent hay at a decent price, so we did spend a little money, but not $2600.00. The lonely potter, who hardly does any socializing, had two good visits in one day, and an excuse to drink two beers on a hot day. The dogs had all the excitement they could handle. The horses got some new hay. Dave learned, something, I am sure. And we got some knives. Bonus.

I forgave Max, and he slept the sleep of the innocent, while I slept the sleep of the exhausted.  The next day, the lonely potter fixed the cord on the Hoover, so it didn't short out any more. I re wrapped the hose and the wand with fresh duct tape. Good as new.

Test Fire

Most days I play a supporting role to the lonely potter's lead, at least as far as pottery goes. I do try to keep informed about pottery in general and aware of what is happening in the studio so that I can try  to stay out of the way or get involved, depending on what would work best for the lonely potter, the pottery, and me.  Sometimes, though, I almost miss my cue.

One Sunday, a couple of weeks ago, the lonely potter asked me to take the bar-b-q propane tank to get filled. So, I did, thinking that he must be planning on a special bar-b-q treat. When I came back to the house with the newly filled and heavy tank, the lonely potter was no where to be seen. Neither were any steaks or other possible bar-b-q fare. I was about to try to carry the tank to the bar-b-q, hook it up, and look for something to thaw for supper, grumbling all the way, when the  lonely potter showed up, grabbed the tank, and disappeared towards the pottery studio. Apparently we were not having a bar-b-q.

It wasn't difficult to figure out what was going on. There had been some intense pottery glazing over the previous days, and lots of to-ing and fro-ing between the pottery studio and the firing shed where the sawdust and raku kilns had been set up.  And it was Sunday. For some reason the lonely potter likes to do his raku firing on Sundays, although it really doesn't matter what day of the week it is to him for anything else.
After I had supper organized,the dogs and I trooped out to see how the first outdoor firing since moving here was going.

The lonely potter was not happy. The raku kiln was not getting hot enough, and if he opened up the tiger torch he used to heat the kin any more, the propane tank would freeze. This is a phenomenon we have seen a few times, usually when the propane gets low and the firing is getting slow, despite attempts to get maximum flame from the torch. When you see frost on the outside of the propane tank and it's a warm summer day, you know there is a problem. Not seeing any point in watching while the lonely potter became more and more frustrated, the dogs and I headed back to the house to get food and drink ready for what looked like would be a long afternoon and night. Then I saw the black clouds. And then the wind came up.

So we spent a lovely Sunday evening, complete with thunder, lightening and sudden downpours, with me mostly in the kitchen  and the lonely potter in the firing shed, tryng to ignore the weather. I tried to keep the lonely potter's spirits up with hot food and coffee and a special dessert, and he tried to get some new and interesting results out of the kilns, using things like horse hair, leaves, and other things he had read about but never tried before.

The results, according to the lonely potter, were terrible. I, on the other hand, with no preconceived ideas about what things were supposed to look like  thought it was all pretty good. Anyway, it was just  a test.