Once a week, for well over a year, a group of women have gathered around a wedging table to make plates and bowls and vases out of clay. As we roll out our slabs and pinch our pots, it’s rare that we work in silence. Conversation flits from marriage to mastectomies to politics and polenta. We move from serious to silly with great ease. Our styles are very different, as reflected in the things we make, but we share a passion for pottery. And socializing. And food. And film. And the list goes on. I’m the youngest in the group by at least a decade, and every week I benefit something from the wisdom in the room and the energy we create together. Everyone there is on the other side of where I am, with adult children, a career (or several careers) behind them, and plenty of time to travel the world. They come back from Italy, Japan, Nova Scotia and Brazil with stories (and pottery techniques) to share. I find these women inspiring, brave, funny and smart. And I believe that I bring as much as I benefit. I just signed up for another term. Unlimited clay, unlimited fun.