The Red Gas Can Story

Since we had an open drive on highway eight, Ken and I were often caught off guard by unexpected customers and visitors.  We could be in the garden or having a meal – you get the idea.  We had a outdoor bath.  And once, after taking a bath, Ken, with his towel around his neck , rounded the corner of the house to greet a familiar couple with me shopping for pots.  Like Adam, he …

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With Deep Gratitude: Ken’s Memorial Service

Yesterday was Ken’s Memorial Service.  After hearing Ken say frequently after a funeral, “That minister (priest) didn’t even know …. (fill in name of deceased).”  Like writing his obituary, I decided to take on the planning for the service. I have a tendency to be that little red hen in the children’s story.    First I realized an open air setting would be best, but I wanted a shelter in case of rain.  Then I …

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End of an Era

Last weekend kind friends helped me continue a decades old tradition of selling Ken’s pottery and produce for our “Spring Opener” the first weekend in May.  Since Ken’s death, many people have asked me what my plans are.  Until now I have simply answered truthfully, “I don’t know.” But after last weekend some things have become clear.  And I can state unequivocally that I have no desire to do pottery and produce retail sales on …

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Stan and the Crock

Ken was a real do-it-yourself guy.  But even he knew his limitations.  Back in the day people built their own houses rather than having them built.  And they got knowledgeable friends to help with their weaker areas of skill.  Ken was excellent at concrete, wood, sheet rock, etc.  Electrical and plumbing, well he felt less confident.  So he asked Stan to check all his work.   Stan came and checked.  Ken asked what he could …

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Thank you, Mom and Dad!

Ken always enjoyed the amaryllis.              My parents had sent him a bulb here and there; most went to a friend when we went to Japan.                Last fall they sent one to me, and now its blossoms remind me of both them AND Ken.          It is short, has two stems and is BEAUTIFUL. 

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Getting a Handle on It

Dave at Halco Press and I were laughing as we remembered Ken stories last week.  One of my favorites involves Ken, Dave and Dave’s dad Jim.  Jim Slack was a warm –  hearted man with a crusty exterior.  He loved teasing Ken.  He would often ask Ken what he was up to and once Ken explained that afternoon he planned to put handles on cups.  Ken further explained that one had to wait for the …

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Ken and Dave – and the Postcards

In the days before we were doing publicity on the internet, Ken commissioned art and made postcards to announce his pottery shows.  He worked with our local Turtle Lake printer, Dave.  Dave’s family published the Turtle Lake Times, and ran a print shop.  One of Dave’s first printing jobs was to deal with that weird, long haired artist up in the woods who made pots – Ken.  Ken had an art degree and was often …

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Bread and Crackers

I took on Ken’s sourdough when he died.  I am still learning about bread baking, but can do a passable loaf.         I ended up with extra sourdough.  I guess this is a fairly common occurrence.  I am not a big pancake eater – one of the ways to use the extra starter, but I decided to try the recipe using starter in crackers.  Today I made my first batch, and I …

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Taking on Tasks Ken Did – Starting Seeds

Ken and I formed a team.  People are often surprised at areas where our skills did not overlap.  Ken loved planting seeds.  And he had his set up on the lower level adjacent to the pottery studio.  A few years ago he built a germination cabinet.     Ken started each season with the onion seeds.  On a trip to the root cellar I could walk by and see him planting.  Sometimes we’d discuss what …

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Bread – Ken’s and Mine

Ken was such a good cook and baker.  His experience was broad and deep.  He grew up cooing and canning from a garden in his back yard.  His grandmother owned and cooked at the Afton House.  Ken worked in restaurants, a bakery,  pizza shoppe, hospital kitchen, and finally as a private chef for one of the Pillsbury family.          I grew up in a food family, too.  My maternal grandmother had a …

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