Claygallimaufry Pottery: Grandmothers Teapot

Grandmother never wore an apron. She used to say, "If it's Lucifer who meets me at the pearly gates, he's going to find me dressed for the occasion."
Gram always took control of situations and she didn't want to give Lucifer the upper hand.
She felt that way about a properly set table, too. If the devil was coming to sup, he'd find nothing to complain about when he sat down for afternoon tea.
While the tea steeped just long enough to extract the purest flavor, she would fuss with the lace tablecloth, smoothing it free of imaginary wrinkles. Her scones, baked to perfection, were carefully arranged on her finest china.
But it was her teapot, she felt, that would write the devil's epitaph.
Grandmother's teapot poured tea for the local gentry and politicians alike. It poured tea for visiting dignitaries, for doctors, plumbers, lawyers, gypsies, college professors, janitors, poets and philosophers, bankers, an occasional hobo, minorities, taxpayers and for the military.
The devil may not have voiced his opinion, but Grandmother's teapot gained renown as a vessel of diplomatic integrity, traditional hospitality and gracious warmth.