After the expropriation, the earthy aroma of wood-fired pottery brings everyday happiness

Text/ Ceramic artist Wu Shu-ling. Photography/ Hong Jiang-bo.

When I first set foot on this land seventeen years ago, I was filled with panic. To me this land was so unfamiliar; there was not a single household within a one-kilometer radius. Although this was my husband's hometown, for me, who had lived in Taipei for over a decade, it was all the beginning of a fresh adjustment!

My mother-in-law was getting on in years, and we could not just leave her to fend for herself, so we came back here. At that time there was no internet, no friends, information was scarce, and everything went back to square one, starting from zero.

Since they were little, my children could never keep their shoes on; they ran around on the earth all day long. My second sister had a plot of idle farmland, and we decided to grow chemical-free rice to feed our two children. From a young age the kids rolled around in the fields with the two of us. Sometimes we replanted seedlings, sometimes we pulled weeds, sometimes we planted watermelon, sometimes we planted corn; as the four seasons changed, we planted according to the seasons.

Although we are not professional farmers, while enjoying pastoral life we also felt that the growth of all things is a kind of nourishment for children's lives. Braving the blazing sun, we experienced farmers' toil; wrapped in frost, we also felt farmers' hardship. Here our lives were turned around all over again, and we are filled with gratitude for every last bit of heaven's bounty!