top of page

homage to the clawfoot tub

For years there were no baths — 6 years in a warehouse with an outdoor shower, nextdoor to a coffee roaster. A hand carved slab of limestone from an old construction project as its base, moss on its edges. Cedar fence walls and a latch enclosure. Copper piping and no roof. At night one could stand in the hot water and watch the steam rise to the sky hand stars, with the smell of roasting coffee in the air.

When our daughter was born, we bathed her in an enamel mixing bowl, then a baby tub, and later plastic bins of graduating sizes. Without a bath tub, we improvised.

Then we built a house around this tub. An old clawfoot salvaged by a kind relative that we hauled, restored and maneuvered inside using straps and an off-roading forklift. It took 3 people to carry inside, and may have taken a foot through the floor with it, had it fallen.

Now life is about baths. Every day baths, salt and bubble baths, ice cream and movie baths, tea & journal baths, rainbow bath bombs, work baths, late night baths, rainy day with frogs singing baths, golden hour magic baths and baths that go on for hours.


bottom of page