I wish I knew the history of this place.

All I know is that it is covered in honeysuckle, some parts under layers of yearly deposits of dirt, dust, and debris. But still, every time I come around I am enchanted by the chunks of stone/concrete seats in the round; the abandoned but brilliant essence of the place. I love the rustic grass pathway that leads you down behind the pottery studio.

I want to see it cleaned up a bit. I want to see kids playing a funny (abridged!) version of the Canterbury Tales in the big circle. Maybe a skit by the Antioch McGregor Classics productions or the Living History Theater company, or an acoustic show with the Corn Daddies or Ryan Judy or Rob Heiliger sitting on some stumps.

If this place were in my backyard, I would set up a dining room table and deck it with linens and candles for a hearty fall sup. You bring the wine, and we’ll toast to the idiots.

Crickets and cicadas- and the barely distant clash-cracking of skateboards- is the dominant hum near the Community Pottery Studio. You might be lucky enough to hear the laughing of little ones, occasionally backed by the low rumble of a diesel Village truck as it passes through the Bryan Center parking lot.

The pottery center has always seemed to me the hub of a community unto its own, potters being amicable people into sharing the craft with others. I remember thinking the tile-making workshops were really interesting, and their outcome is nothing short of impressive. I chose pieces that caught my eye, but if you happen by the remainder might surprise you.