There is a plum tree right in front of the Canterbury Potters’ Association studio which is my Happy Place. Like the tree, I have nestled into there with roots of companionship and friendship with fellow potters, happily using the benches around it to sit and share the comfort of sunshine and a mug of tea.

Many of my pieces carry the tree’s imprint, the tight pattern of its bark – useful for smaller works; plus, it is conveniently located just a few steps away from the studio.

The plum tree carries a cloud of pretty pale blossoms in spring which transform into a wealth of small bland yellow plums in summer. Unlike the nearby walnut grove, whose nuts are coveted by keen foragers, most of the plums fall without being harvested, their overabundance covering the ground and turning into sludge. I do take pity and take some plums home to simmer with sugar and spices to lift up the flavour, but the task of removing the kernels, makes it hardly worth the effort.

Even for free fruit, quality wins over quantity.

As a potter, I make far fewer pieces since starting my Arbor & Argilla project. I am think more about the what’s and the why’s before I make or fire a piece. I observe more, ponder which clay, which glaze what makes bring out the most of my tree-inspired pots. My raw bark pieces are stark and a little weird, but I feel my craft coming slowly to fruition.

There is an overabundance of ideas flooding the virtual space, and it took some effort to disengage my pottery from the cute perfect pieces that are well made and marketable, but not mine. It was too easy to add more of the same instead of finding my own voice, from letting my own hands and mind provide the guidance.