A narrow fellow in the grass
Occasionally rides;
You may have met him,--did you not,
His notice sudden is.
The grass divides as with a comb,
A spotted shaft is seen;
And then it closes at your feet
And opens further on.
He likes a boggy acre,
A floor too cool for corn.
Yet when a child, and barefoot,
I more than once, at morn,
Have passed, I thought, a whip-lash
Unbraiding in the sun,--
When, stooping to secure it,
It wrinkled, and was gone.
Several of nature's people
I know, and they know me;
I feel for them a transport
Of cordiality;
But never met this fellow,
Attended or alone,
Without a tighter breathing,
And zero at the bone.
Emily Dickinson
I wanted to incorporate some of her techniques and motifs in a large jar.
It's about 11 inches tall, not including the lid.
A figure of Karen holding one of her bowls is on the lid of the jar, with sunflowers and smaller flowers adorning the jar's surface.
The jar survived its first firing, so I've begun painting and glazing it. The inside will be the same blue color that appears on her sunflower bowl, and the sunflowers will also be glazed in a similar way. I'll make the smaller flowers purple, because that was Karen's favorite color. She once showed us a photo of herself from her "hippie" days, where she's wearing a calico granny dress and standing in a field of wildflowers. When I think of her now, that's how I picture her. I feel so fortunate that she was my friend, even though it was for only a few years.
