Sometimes I dream that I’m a blacksmith – followed my ancestor’s lead. I make wrought iron and copper weather vanes, lightening rods, gates, candle stands – all manner of objects – but it is the vanes and rods that are my speciality. In my dreams every one is unique and glows with an almost-life. They are mystical and magical, some are encrusted with coloured glass gems and others steel folded seashells - copper leaves, iron birds, silver kisses - all welded to the twisted, burnished steel stems that are my work and passion.
North, south, east, west – bent and straight and true - they are all beautiful.
In my dreams the weather vanes tame the winds and the lightening rods control the storm. They stand upright and waiting in my red-glowed forge, giving me purpose and hope – a direction to my life – and the people travel from all over to see them - bankers, fishermen, gypsies, farmers, violinists. Sometimes I sell, other times I give away – it depends on who my work chooses, and their need. They are marvellous and a marvel – they are my magic – my life is a carnival.
My family are blacksmiths.
And I’m not - except in dreams.