Guilty as “charged”

Keeping my glass supplies stocked has never really been a problem thanks to my mom and her love of stained glass. But with over 500 km separating us now (538 km, to be exact – thank you, Google maps), it’s been a wee bit tougher to replenish my stock on a regular basis. While I’m not exactly running low on glass, my colour selection is dwindling. So one weekend a few months ago I decided to venture out into the great white Ottawa winter and hit the local glass store.

Now, when I say “great white Ottawa winter”, that’s exactly what I mean. The day my partner and I chose for our little adventure turned out to coincide with a healthy dump of snow on our nation’s capital. But like the good Canadians we are, we didn’t turn back. Oh no, we kept going, slowly slogging through the mounds of freshly fallen snow. Of course we had to stop en route at a diner to fuel up with a greasy breakfast first, after which our eyes glazed over and we quickly fell into a grease- and carb-induced torpor. I think that may have been a good thing, because it meant that we didn’t think too much about our 6 km trek through the snowy (and very much unshovelled) streets of Ottawa.

Once we arrived at the glass store, I inexplicably started feeling a little self-conscious, like an outsider. I didn’t know where the scrap bin was and after quickly surveying the shop floor, I started rummaging through what I thought was the scrap bin, which, instead of the irregular scraps I had been expecting, contained neat little bundles of perfectly square glass. I picked out a couple bundles, plus a whole discounted sheet of glass with a chipped corner. When I took them up to pay, I decided that we hadn’t walked those 6 km for nothing and I swallowed my pride and asked if that was the only scrap bin they had. The guy working, bless his soul, didn’t laugh at my ignorance and instead kindly pointed me in the direction of the real scrap bin. I donned some of the holey gloves provided and sorted through pounds and pounds of scrap. Ah yes, that was the good stuff – so many colours and irregular shapes and sizes! I was happier than a chipmunk in a peanut butter jar.

All this to say that some of the glass I picked up that blizzardy day was used for the 2 acacia charger plates seen below – my first projects with bought glass. The designs, by the way, were conceived as doodles while I was daydreaming in French class (and later simplified as I laid them out on the plates, because I inevitably bite off more than I can chew when I’m coming up with an idea for a design).

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