Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. - Albert Einstein

In snowbound, voiceless, mountain depths, to herald spring, pine trees sound in tune. - Princess Shikishi

At the back of our house, in our neighbor's yard, there lives a large evergreen tree.  It is the dominant view from the windows of both my craft room and our bedroom.  It's a place of refuge and source of food for several bird species and the occasional squirrel.  Its year-round forest green color is something of a balm to me whether the branches are swaying in a breeze, still and steadfast, covered with snow, or accompanying vibrancy to surrounding leafed out trees.  It is tall and strong and constant.

While watching Black-capped Chickadees fly in, out, and around this tree a few days ago, a strong memory from my childhood came to mind.  From first through eighth grade, my family lived in an Italianate style building with four flats and a large shared yard.  There were blackberry bushes intertwined with the rusty fence, a lawn divided by a concrete path, and a huge pine tree in this yard.  At some point in my childhood, I inherited a snowmobile suit from an older cousin.  Because it was so warm and toasty inside that suit, I could spend hours outside in the snow.  I recall clearly how one winter the snow had fallen and begun to melt around this pine tree in such a way that it created a perfect icy bowl, ideal for jumping on my plastic sled (literally a sheet of plastic with a handle at one end) and circling around the tree a few times before slowing at the base of the trunk.  It was similar, I guess, to how water drains from a sink.  Round and round until it disappears, but in this case I simply would come to a stop and stare up at the tree before getting up to do it again.  I loved this!  I had discovered the best way to amuse myself and sled in what was essentially a flat yard and stay warm while doing it!  I can almost hear the sound of the plastic as it glided and scraped over the somewhat crunchy snow, feel how my fingers held on tight to the plastic handle through my chunky mittens, remember fully how gleeful the movement felt.  

My older sister tells me that I remember everything, and I think it's because I can sometimes recall things in detail that she doesn't remember at all.  That goes both ways, however.  I know that I too have gaping holes in my memory, the specifics of place and time forgotten - as happens to all of us with age.  Perhaps a lot of these memories are just latent, awaiting a spark to rekindle the echo of an experience.  Like how a pine tree that lives behind the house where I currently reside in Alaska could bring to the surface a vivid memory of a pine tree behind a house where I lived for the better part of the 1980s in upstate New York.  Fascinating how the mind works.

Histrionicus histrionicus

Not sure about anyone else, but my inbox has been inundated this week with suggestions on ways to de-stress, declutter, deep clean, spring clean, get creative, practice self care, stay healthy and so on.  Much of it is helpful.  All of it, I believe, is folks trying to say "hey, I'm worried too.  Here's how I'm coping."  I get it.  While I have the luxury and privilege to be at home, my husband has gone to work and is willingly giving up his weekend to work for those in his office with existing health concerns hoping to minimize their risk of getting COVID-19.  

It seems several cities have now asked residents to stay at home all together.  No shopping, walking, driving, going to work, socializing, etc.  While several people have tested positive for this virus in Alaska, we've yet to get any orders to shelter in place.  Yet home is where I'm spending most of my time.  

A few days ago, Tim and I did head out to see if there was open water at one of our favorite spots.  This time last year, we were seeing American Dippers.  No luck at the first place as all wet areas but one small circle on a creek were still frozen over.  We did, however, spy some waterfowl at our second stop where plenty of people were ice skating, walking, and running.  While keeping our distance from humans, we spotted Mallards and a handsome, immature Harlequin Duck (Histrionicus histrionicus) drake.  I kinda fell in love with this little guy while watching him fight the strong current and pull himself onto a shelf of slippery ice, all the while doing his best to avoid the much larger Mallards around him.  

One of the emails I've received came from the National Audubon Society suggesting that bird watching could be a good antidote to the current health crisis.  As the news brings us more information, so much of it seemingly stark and fear-inducing, I know I'll be tempted to see what migratory birds will be arriving in the upcoming weeks.  But it's likely I'll live vicariously through the lens of someone else's camera via online apps rather than risk being around other avian enthusiasts.  Alaskans endure long winters, but I'm not sure spring fever gives me permission to freely move about, potentially putting myself and others at risk.  

Meanwhile, may you stay healthy and able to care for yourself and those you love.  May we keep in mind those that are now ill with this virus and those who have lost their lives to the disease caused by the virus.

enumerate, classify, tabulate, chronicle

Amongst several projects-in-the-works on my desk, there is a pile of to do lists.  There is one for an upcoming garage sale.  There is one for craft related items I want to acquire, and there's another for crafty ideas I want to put into action.  There is a list for stuff that needs doing around the house and another for financial things my husband and I plan to sort out.  There is a file of garden projects for our back yard, and there is a checklist of books and authors I'd like to read.  You get the notion - my inclination for writing things down for fear I'll otherwise forget all about them.  I've been a list maker my whole life.  Or at least as long as I can remember.  While perusing an artist's profile recently, I laughed out loud when she stated that making to do lists is one of her greatest pleasures.  It wasn't funny because I also find it highly pleasant but, unlike her, I feel they're more an obligation than a delight.  Well, more like an obligation and a necessity.  It's not uncommon for me to joke that my husband is my memory.  When he turned 40 last year, I told him he is not allowed any mental decline as he ages because it's his duty to recall things I can't.  Kind of joking....kind of not.

This is the story I've been telling myself for years now - they why of list making.  On further reflection, the truth has more to do with my propensity to procrastinate by recording my intentions for later action that often never comes to fruition.  So why is that?  Why do I continue to write these things down?  Why do I keep these lists for months or years, even the ones that have never seen a single item crossed off as accomplished?  I suspect the reason is fear.  (Not just a fear of forgetting, which is genuine.)  I'm not talking so much about the reading list or the errand list or the stuff that needs to be sold or given away list although these weigh on my mind to a degree.  I'm referring to the creative ideas list and its companion - the things to buy to actually make some of the things on the creative ideas list.  

Like so many, I long to be a maker of handmade things that people would actually want to buy.  So I write lists and sketch ideas.  I buy or borrow books and magazines full of ideas and instructions.  I peruse the internet and subscribe to blogs written by artists who inspire me.  I watch YouTube videos and sign up for online retreats hosted by artists of various genres.  I decorate my craft room with colorful framed prints, plates, ceramics, glass ornaments and carefully organized knickknacks.  I have two bookshelves and four IKEA wheeled carts full of supplies in the closet plus two cupboards full of jewelry-making needs and fabric in addition to a small dresser teeming with paper.  A large garden trellis covered with hooked screws laden with strands of beads lives next to my desk.  I am surrounded with the instruments to create all day long so what's stopping me from doing so?  

Fear.  I'm afraid that I'm not creative enough or talented enough and that my ideas aren't original or unique.  I'm afraid that I would pour my time, money and daydreams into producing items that no one would deem worthy of purchasing.  And, sadly, somewhere along the way, I decided to believe that any artistic ambitions weren't feasible.  Sure, my elementary/middle school art teacher made it clear (to my mind) with just a look that I hadn't the talent to be an artist when she asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Indeed, a much-respected college professor once told me point blank that I was afraid of success, and all I could do in response was cry.  Yes, I've received criticism from folks over the years when I've given them handmade presents or sold my jewelry.  Certainly, I've made mistakes while creating things which didn't turn out well or as planned.  Well, there's no success without failure so why not dust myself off, continue learning and creating and get on with it?  Especially when I know that becoming good at anything requires practice and dedication?  Especially when I know that every job I've ever had, even the ones that I did truly enjoy some aspects of, was never a vocation that was my passion?  Not even close to something that continuously lit my inner fire or made me want to leap out of bed in the morning for love of doing the work?  Fear, that's why.  And at an age where 50 isn't far into my future, one might further ask - what the hell am I waiting for?   What AM I waiting for?  Good gravy.

My goal for the remainder of 2020 is to make things.  Create things.  Try new things and turn old ideas and sketches into tangible items.  Put my sewing machine (freshly oiled and running smoothly) to use and actually work through some of my fabric hoard.  Accept mistakes and learn from them.  Watch YouTube videos when I have the supplies in front of me to make what is being taught as opposed to while I'm in bed late at night.  And to do it all just for the fun of it and for the pure enjoyment that creating brings.  Not because I'm thinking of who might buy it or that the end result is wanting someone to buy it.  Just create to create because that is what brings me joy.  Okay, I may make some things as gifts, but that's not the same as anxiously wondering if someone would lay down money for my handmade creations.  

It just seems silly, ridiculous even, that fear of making things no one might find worthy of buying prevents me from making anything.  It is not as though I had a brick-and-mortar store or online shop that failed.  It's not as though I set up tables at a craft market and sold nothing.  I haven't been brave enough to do these things.  The few times I did put my jewelry up for sale at a small venue, I actually sold several pieces or sets.  I even had folks commission items in different color schemes afterward.  Even so, that fear of not being good enough has remained, and I'm weary of it. 

So I'm going to create for the sake of creating and see what happens.  Flip through sketch books and journal pages and trays of unfinished projects to give life to my ideas.  See what troubleshooting needs to take place and how designs might evolve.  Just for the joy of bringing my daydreams into existence.  If it leads somewhere else, I'll be happy to see how that journey unfolds.     

“If you feel like there’s something out there that you’re supposed to be doing, if you have a passion for it, then stop wishing and just do it.” - Wanda Sykes

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.