There is an invading army in our backyard, or at least the remnants of one. Everywhere I looked on Sunday I found cicada shells hanging from our deck. They weren't there on Friday, so they all had to have hatched between Friday night and Sunday morning.
Every year I am amazed at the amount of shells I find at the base of our willow oaks and our silver maple. It looks like the mounds of dead left behind after some epic battle. At times nature is astounding in it's excesses.
In the late afternoon I went to Clayworks and put some handles and decoration on the pots I made on Thursday. I had planned to glaze some pots, but that would have been 2 to 4 hours on my feet and I couldn't do it after the show the day before.
The load-out, load-in, setup, show, break-down, load-out, load-in cycle takes more out of me these days. I hobble around for a couple of days after each pottery show since I am on my feet for most of it. The next day my knees and ankles have to be forced to bend. I don't want to complain, since I really love doing shows, but each one I do takes more recovery time. Ah, isn't aging wonderful?