The elegant pot, the one on the mantel, need not have been involved in the plot at all – same for the slate I mentioned earlier that I fished from the Lym one summer because it caught my eye as unusual, or rather as useful in the way that small edges of slate with a nail hole in can sometimes seem useful. But, there they were, alongside your letter, which arrived Tuesday, the three of them, like life long friends.
It is glazed clay; off-white, ochre; belly the size of a pear. A long, thin, pinched neck ending in a pair of pursed lips – tiny, like a shell, perhaps. The flat-bottom is unglazed and scratched with an h (or b?). The numbers 1947 being the date -I assume – that it was turned by some never-known potter, an amateur, I hope, one evening beneath a bare bulb in a cellar or back shed. I found it on a worn doorstep on Crellestrasse when I was last over that way (which would be two Octobers ago). Whether it was discard or had just been forgotten, I couldn’t say, but the mid-afternoon light was spangling in the trees and the quietude of the pavement and the sight of the leaves, orange and green, and the heavily-penned blue front door, fixed everything in place, attracting the magpie in me.
I perched beside it, making some pretence of tying my lace, before picking it up, quite nonchalant, sensing that it would be just-so on a mantel, should I ever have one.
nickreeves 
The best things are the shiny ones we discover near the gutters
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Swoop
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It in the commonplace that we find meaning, the spiritual … ‘the three of them, like life long friends’. So evocative.
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Lovely post, and I’m just down the road from Crellestrasse 🙂
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Well, well! How funny. Do give my regards to the Nostalgie next time you find yourself that way, Phil 🙂
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oh, I love this!
“I perched beside it, making some pretence of tying my lace, before picking it up, quite nonchalant, sensing that it would be just-so on a mantel, should I ever have one.” – and so much has clearly happened since two Octobers ago.
Your writing makes me so happy. I have catching up to do!
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Thanks Holly! xo
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8:49 am
It sounds marvelous. The memory of finding the treasure is always as wonderful as the treasure itself!
Hoping very much that you are well and fine and pondering what worded gifts you will give next.
Do take care.
Suzanne x
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4:52 pm
Thanks Suzanne. Back at work since Monday. Lots of hair to cut. I get home, heat some dinner and crawl to my bed. Hopefully it’ll let up a bit next week and I can come back to tapping keys. Hope this finds you well. Nick x
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My favorite part of this reminiscence is the description of the object and your speculation of how it came to be:
It is glazed clay; off-white, ochre; belly the size of a pear. A long, thin, pinched neck ending in a pair of pursed lips – tiny, like a shell, perhaps. The flat-bottom is unglazed and scratched with an h (or b?). The numbers 1947 being the date -I assume – that it was turned by some never-known potter, an amateur, I hope, one evening beneath a bare bulb in a cellar or back shed.
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I really like this post.
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Thanks, Shane.
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