Amy

Small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, and colored much softer than the photo appears, 

if this pot had a name, I would call it Amy. 

This seventies flashback is now a fast-forward.

Recently, I've been thinking about the amazing ceramic hanging pots I collected back in the seventies. Back in the day when street art fairs were a new phenomenon, my mom and I would head into
Ann Arbor on the last weekend of July each summer, and browse, among other things, the pottery shops. She bought serving dishes and platters, bowls and vases, but I bought mostly hanging plant pots.

I had quite a collection of them - probably eight or ten - and they not only hung in my bedroom during the second half of my childhood but also went to college with me, coming home in the trunk of the car for breaks and long weekends. When pottery plant holders fell from fashion in the ruthless days of the eighties, I boxed them up for safekeeping and brought them along with the other mementos of my life, not knowing what else to do with them.

For a good twenty years, they lived in silence.

At some point after the new millennium, I pulled them out of the attic and brought them down to show my daughters a little bit about who I was before I became their mom. Enjoying their summery patio vibe, I hung them here and there around the yard, but that was a lethal mistake. All but one of my seventies pottery plant pots has since broken into irredeemable pieces.

So sad.

But the one that remains is my favorite. Small and delicate, this pot was thrown from a pale golden clay and colored with an almost-pastel turquoise translucent glaze. I used to keep it planted with baby's tears and it was precious to me.

Ever since the other planters were destroyed, my darling pot has been lying quietly in a safe, protected corner of the garage. The other day, I dug it out, restrung it with fresh hemp, planted it up with Irish moss, and hung it at my kitchen window.

This relic of my childhood is back in action, and the circular rhythms of life play on.

* * * * *

This song was popular during my freshman year at college 

and it reminds me very much of my hanging pottery planter days.