Bonnie Leyton: Exuberant, joyful, one of a kind

“Hello, Bonnie,” I would often say.

“Hello, darling,” she might often reply.

I knew Bonnie Leyton in a variety of contexts over a large number of years, but I saw her most often over the last couple of years. Several times a week, I would encounter her at the seniors’ residence where my mother, Sheila Gushue, now lives. Bonnie lived on the same floor, and she and Mom would sometimes share a table for their meals.

Bonnie, an artist and potter herself but better known, I think, for the Leyton Gallery she opened more than two decades ago, died earlier this week.

I cannot say I was shocked by her death, but I felt the sharpness of the loss. One of the last times I saw Bonnie was just last week, as she was taking part — in her own way — in an exercise class on the building’s main floor.

I learned that my mom met Bonnie many years ago, and she actually took a class from Bonnie back when I was growing up. Mom did not recognize her when she moved in, and when re-introduced, Mom said, “THE Bonnie Leyton?” Mom raised both hands in the air, laughed, and they hugged. It was a beautiful little moment.

Our paths crossed several times. I met her while interviewing her husband, the author and anthropologist Elliott Leyton. (Elliott died four years ago, in the same place.)

Martha and I much enjoyed chatting with her in social settings and especially at her gallery on Baird’s Cove, tucked into a space between Water Street and Harbour Drive. She always had time to talk, always had an exuberance that made the air a little bit electric.

Her pottery can be found throughout the house. We brought a few of the pieces together on our living room table after her death as a way to remember her.

When we got married, we received as a gift one of Bonnie’s beautiful pie plates. It unfortunately met its end next to a hot element. It says something that both Martha and I sought out a piece to replace it.

When Martha’s passion for making pottery kicked into gear in the 1990s, Bonnie was supportive and kind, full of advice and encouragement. I’ve heard that constantly through the years, and especially this week.

Bonnie’s gallery is still running, and I always recommend it to visitors heading for a twack (that’s a local word for going on a shop, but not necessarily buying anything) downtown. A few weeks ago, we stopped in, and I was drawn to one of Bonnie’s own small pieces. I bought it for Martha. You can see Bonnie’s work here.

I’m going to miss Bonnie, very much. I’m so glad I got to see her so much toward the end of her life.

Like many of the things she crafted by hand, she was one of a kind.