Winter, Renovations & The Very Slow Arrival of a Kiln

Dust, Plans & Patience

January and February in the Outer Hebrides are not in a hurry.

The light is soft, the wind does what it wants, and everything feels quieter. It’s the season for resting, resetting… and apparently, ripping down plasterboard.

Here at Stack and Tumble, while the island moves slowly, we’ve (somewhat dustily) begun renovations.

The soon-to-be studio has lived a few lives already—bedroom, then laundry room. And now? Pottery studio. A definite upgrade, I think.

The vision is clear:
 The shop space will be light and professional—a lovely place to wander into after a coastal walk. The studio itself will be lighter, softer, homier. A space that feels creative but comfortable. Somewhere I can spend hours at the wheel while the Hebridean weather does its dramatic thing outside.

I’ll admit—I’m slightly intimidated. I’ve never properly renovated a space before, let alone one that means this much. But I suspect it’ll become mine the same way pottery does: slowly, through time and tiny details.
So far, we’ve torn down old plasterboard, removed walls around the bathroom and laundry area (goodbye, questionable layout), and installed a front door. A front door! No more trekking around the entire house just to get in. Revolutionary. Also very helpful when hauling rubble.

Now for the truly exciting part:
 We’ve ordered the kiln and the wheel.
The wheel should arrive in a week or two, and I am absolutely itching to get back to throwing. The kiln, however, won’t be here until early April—hopefully. Which is slightly inconvenient when you’re planning glaze tests, clay body decisions, and general pottery world domination.

Speaking of glazes, I’ll be mixing my own recipes this time. Which means testing, tweaking, and probably a few “well that was unexpected” moments. I would love to start immediately. I currently have neither a kiln nor glaze materials. Minor details.

Mostly, I just can’t wait to feel clay moving under my hands again. To make pieces that will head off into homes and become part of someone’s daily ritual—morning coffee, shared meals, quiet evenings.
For now, though, it’s dust, plans, and patience.

Winter is slow.
The studio is evolving.
And Stack and Tumble is taking shape—one wall, one wheel, one very-late kiln at a time.

If you’re heading to the Outer Hebrides later this year, I hope you’ll stop by and see it for yourself.

More soon.