Here we are 2020. My second winter here in Whistler, BC. My first kiln season slowing down as the snow piles up outside my studio door and the cross country trails await. I feel like I have been playing a mad game of catch up this fall. Like a whirling dervish of clay and ideation. But an end of a season is the perfect time to catch your breadth, isn't it? So I look up, pause, then my shoulders slump. I wonder where my voice has gone? So strong for so many art years but a whisper this year as I tried to learn new ceramic tricks, techniques, and finishes. I breathe. I look at what my hands in but mind not have wrought. My shoulders sag a bit more and I sigh. Then I see them down low on a bottom shelf. Their little whispering faces egging me on. "We're still here waiting," they seem to say. "What are you waiting for?" And in that quiet commune with my art I recognize that creative exploration is never wasted. Sometimes just creating for a season without a clear trajectory is what you need to be able to see what has been there all along. I sit. In silence in my space and look at what I've done. Then a small smile forms. They are waiting. And I'm going to have so much fun with them in 2020!