echoes of Wien

One kind word can warm three winter months. - Japanese Proverb

You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream. — C.S. Lewis

The beginning of a new year can feel both hopeful and also somewhat intimidating.  Hopeful in that it brings the opportunity of twelve new months yet to be lived.  Somewhat intimidating in that there are twelve months ahead to be filled with purpose and experiences and adventure and new things and new people.  Looking at it like that is a recipe for getting overwhelmed by possibility or for enhancing fears of wasting time not pursuing every worthwhile opportunity.  Regardless of hope or worry, a new year and a new decade are upon us.  Might as well embrace them and be mindful of taking things as they come since I'm unsure fretting serves anyone's ambitions, however large or small.

On the topic of ambitions, one of mine (not going to call it a resolution) is to spend more time at the spot in the above photo.  This is what lives directly in front of me when I sit at the desk in my craft room.  Upon the desk are to do lists, an old cheese box full of beautiful ribbon, a new watercolor paint set gifted by my husband for Christmas, a silver metal box with drawers full of bric-a-brac, a bowl overflowing with business cards and stickers, loads of beads waiting to become jewelry, and a few unfinished projects.  The windowsill is home to an assortment of memories - photos of the women in my immediate family, clay things I've made, a felted birdie from a gift shop in Montana, a plastic cow toy from a great friend in Austria, a Meadowlark trivet given to me by an old boss, garage sale finds from a few different states, dried roses from an anniversary bouquet, and so on.  The arrangement on the windowsill changes from time to time, but ultimately it's a display of mementos.  They simply make me happy as would spending more time at this desk creating things.

Part of my fabric hoard, awaiting a well-oiled sewing machine and my imagination.

Jewelry seems to be on the back-burner these days as I use my beads for other things like these dangly suncatcher-type things and embellished paper ornaments.  Any excuse to rummage through my stash of beads and paper...  

Now that all things Christmas have been put away, this little up-cycled cutie resides on our living room mantle.  We found him at a craft show in November, and his maker has inspired me to learn embroidery.  We'll see how that goes.

Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand and for a talk beside the fire: it is time for home. - Edith Sitwell

Oh, autumn....

If a year was tucked inside of a clock, then autumn would be the magic hour. 

- Victoria Erickson

Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. – Stanley Horowitz

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. - George Eliot

Since my last post (how did August and September go by so fast?!), things are no longer very green in Anchorage.  Well, to be fair, most lawns are still green, and there are plenty of evergreen trees about.  However, many trees, shrubs and ground cover have made the transition to fall.  There are plenty of yellows, oranges, reds and browns to be seen in every hue imaginable, and it is often cool, grey and rainy these days.  Quite a contrast from last autumn where we had unseasonable warmth and sunshine well into October.  My husband would come home from his job with the National Weather Service and say "this isn't typical fall weather in Anchorage.  Next fall will likely be different." 

After a hot summer with many days of above normal temperatures and little rain, I'm not sure anyone is truly complaining about the current weather.  There were thousands of acres ablaze across the state, and the fire that brought lingering smoke into Anchorage for weeks has already cost tens of millions of dollars to fight.  The prediction has been it (Swan Lake Fire) would only be put out completely by snow.  As of yesterday it was still burning, although it is now ninety percent contained.

Despite the frequent soggy days, I have found windows of decent weather to ramble and roam, camera and binoculars in hand.  While many of the birds I enjoy observing in spring and summer have migrated to southern climes, there is still plenty to see and hear.  European Starlings have been visiting the trees along my neighborhood walk.  Black-capped Chickadees are easily spotted swooping from tree to tree throughout town.  As are Common Ravens, Black-billed Magpies, Red-breasted Nuthatches and Steller's Jays.  I never tire of the year-round, backyard commoners.  Their familiar colors, movements and calls are always beguiling. 

For a short while to come I'll be on the lookout for the late migrators plus muskrats and beavers until the wetlands freeze over.  A moose (or two) is an unfailingly welcome sight to behold as well.  I never, ever tire of seeing them stroll about in this city as though they're casually traversing a remote forest or meadow.