Reaching into the freshly cut trench, I pulled out a handful of purple-gray clay and began making a place setting for the scheduled afternoon tea. The sun was warm against my skin on this lazy summer day with a gentle breeze to move the grass and keep us cool. Seated on the ground nearby, my companions were busy shaping their own bowls, cups and teapots. Amid this collaborative adventure rose an aroma that kept our parents away and for which we dubbed the clay "sewer mud." And thus began a tradition that lasted many a summer day...