by CMCook | Jul 29, 2025 | fat cow studio
Mornings here aren’t rushed, they unfold. The sun peeks over horizon, warming the tops of the cedar trees and sending long golden shadows across the pasture. I step onto the porch with coffee in hand, still barefoot, still waking up myself. It’s quiet, but not silent....
by CMCook | Jul 18, 2025 | fat cow studio
I’ve lived in Texas for over 40 years, and I’ll be honest, I’m still not used to the 100° and up heat. The sun can be downright brutal, and by mid-July, I find myself dreaming of crisp autumn air and cozy winter mornings. Still, there’s a raw, rugged beauty to Texas...
by CMCook | Jul 8, 2025 | fat cow studio
There’s a particular kind of grief that doesn’t come with a funeral. No flowers. No casseroles. Just quiet absence. It’s the loss of someone who’s still out there, living, breathing, carrying on, but not in your life anymore. Maybe it was a slow fade. Maybe it was a...
by CMCook | Jun 19, 2025 | fat cow studio
There’s something about a summertime sunset that speaks the same language as clay. Maybe it’s the way the sky slowly shifts from gold to ember, or the soft wash of rose that lingers just before night settles in. These skies feel familiar—like the inside of my kiln...
by CMCook | Jun 10, 2025 | fat cow studio
I found myself in my garden, surrounded by the flowers my mother once loved. This garden is mine—planted in my time, in my rhythm—but still, she’s here. Listening to the birdsong, I heard her laughter, soft and familiar. She was there in the dancing of the...
by CMCook | May 29, 2025 | fat cow studio
One year ago today, I stepped into retirement—though it didn’t begin the way I imagined. I was caring for my husband after his knee replacement, and just as he began healing, a serious blood infection set him back. Those early months were tough, but by September, he...
