Hell is being a gardener in Montana

The weather has been decent here for a couple of days which means it hasn't rained and our property is not flooded. Because it has been so nice I decide I would plant some more cucumbers in my raised bed for the THIRD time. They have frozen twice now and I have woke to tiny shriveled plants that were, the night before, tasty fresh cucumber salads and fabulous pickles. As I am planting these tiny plants of hope, I realize that I am humming "Hell is for children" by Pat Benatar, only in my head it is "Hell for gardeners". Then I remember the pictures my Mom posted of her garden and the words become "Hell is for Montana gardeners". (Mom, I love your garden pictures so please don't take this to heart!)

When I moved into my boyfriend's (now my wonderful husband) house, it looked like the picture below.

There was nothing. I didn't understand why you would have that much space and not plant a single thing in six years. I understand now. It breaks your heart. All the hope and anticipation is wiped out in one night by a hard frost on the Fou

rth of July, a herd of deer or a tiny bunny that you once thought was cute but now only wish your air pump gun would shoot harder and farther.

The really sad part of this story is that no one told me that my heart would be broken. When I talked of planting beautiful flowers and tasty vegetables the locals just nodded their heads and gave me that "poor, poor girl" look. It is only recently that I realized it was the same look my husband gave me as I was buying plants at the nursery to create my garden wonderland.

I have managed to get some things to grow as the after picture below shows. But my little gardening heart is still broken in this mountain climate every year, and I still have not managed to get a single cucumber plant to grow here.

Pottery Snobs

Last night the hubs and I were part of the Archie Bray ceramic stroll. It was a blast and we met potters from all over the world. Some had some very kind words and others not so much.

I very much admire the potters who work and live at the Archie Bray. They have helped us artistically and also technically with our pottery woes. Because we are such newbies to the pottery world it isn't uncommon for us to take a piece of pottery to the Bray and ask what went wrong (thanks Josh!) or to ask about chemicals and why we can't get a color right. Most of the potters at the Bray are true artists, love their work and are humble about their own fabulous pieces. Their works are meant to be statements about society, fantasy, personal torture and other various topics important to the artist as stated in their bios. Some of the work is so beautiful that you get lost in the piece but is often too beautiful to fit into and survive my mountain life and some of the other work is, well, difficult to interpret. However, whatever the clay becomes, I always look at the work, ask questions and try to soak up as much "artistic" mojo as I can.

Because the Bray walk brought so many people from all over the word, I encountered my very first pottery snobs. Elitists in the pottery world who believe that if you do not have the correct education or have not studied under the right master your work is crap and you have no right to share it. A woman actually came into our display last night and picked up a mug that my husband worked so hard on and said "can you believe this "tourist pottery"". I was stunned and felt bad for the hubs who was very proud of his mug and actually did have some tourists asking to buy it. Correct me if I am wrong -- but people have been making mud pots for hundreds of years --functional pots that hold water and food and I am pretty sure that none of them were eating out of a sculpture of a human with a rat head holding a spear.

So there it is. Maybe I am the pottery snob. I want to hold my pottery and use it in my everyday life. And while I will never purchase the human rat sculpture, I will admire it for the artistic statement and the work that went into creating the piece. I would never walk into someone's space and dismiss the work they created and were brave enough to share with the world. Maybe it all just comes down to good manners and being polite and wondering who raised these rude people anyway!