Invisible Woman

autumn visitors

This morning I was proceeding with my ongoing order-from-chaos quest, when I looked up to see this visitor out the kitchen window.

I dashed for my camera, hoping nothing would frighten it away before I could catch a few photos.

My best guess is that this is a juvenile Cooper's hawk.  Amazing, how it can turn its head almost 180 degrees.

(...the better to see you, my dears...)

I only got a few shots before it flew to the far corner of the backyard, where birds and ground squirrels try to make themselves invisible amid the denser shrubbery.

I was able to quietly sneak outside to get a closer view, but unfortunately the hawk was shaded by neighboring palms.

It struck me that the backyard becomes utterly silent when a hawk is present.

 
This last photo was taken just a second before it flew away.

And then, almost instantly, the finches fluttered in the bougainvillea, and the quails resumed their odd clucking meanderings under the sage bushes.

Danger again having come and gone, they live their lives in the moment.

*   *   *   *   *

We had another noteworthy visitor last Wednesday night.  I was reading in bed around 10 pm when I heard the quiet, clear hooo hoo, hooo hoo of our local great horned owl.  It likes to perch on our chimney sometimes.

Again, I dashed to grab the camera before slipping out the back door as quietly as possible.

 

There it sat on our chimney, backlit by moonlight.

Alas, as I tiptoed farther across the yard, hoping to catch it silhouetted against the moon, it silently glided off into the night.

I'm determined to get good photos of this owl someday, but it would help if it would show up before dark.

(P.S. For incredible photos of birds of prey of all sorts, check out Linda Wright's Looking Up, listed in my sidebar favorites.)

off-camera: progress

While the camera focused on hummingbirds out the window this past week, another colorful flock was quietly expanding beside the sewing machine.

 
These guys still haven't decided exactly where they'll perch for this holiday season, but they seem to bring smiles no matter where they land.

And the stack of quilted Christmas pillows continues to grow.

But today I'm feeling oddly nesty myself, so I'm off to do some much needed housecleaning before I get back to normal.
 

backyard distractions

Today we have a new guy ruling the backyard, as well.

He's a bit of a show-off perhaps, but I think he's a male Anna's hummingbird.  Surprisingly, I wasn't seeing any Anna's males last spring when I saw the Anna's females nesting, so it pleases me to see a male now.

 
 
 He only arrived a day or so ago, but he's definitely made his presence known to the other hummers that frequent our backyard feeders.  It's kind of like having mini-Blue Angels practicing aerial maneuvers in the backyard all day long.

And in answer to the age-old question, what's it like to be the King of the Backyard?

It's pretty cool.

YAWN.

another handsome tough guy

The nectar feeder in the front entry has been claimed today by another handsome little tough guy.  (This one doesn't look the same to me as our frequent August visitor, in that he lacks the longer chin side feathers.)

But what this one may lack in purple plumage, he makes up for in attitude.  No one else is going to invade his turf when he's around.

"Hey you, in there with the camera.

You lookin at me?"

A Place to Bark needs your help today!

On behalf of our pup Maddie and our kitties Lucy and Pete, all beautiful animals adopted from rescue organizations, I ask that you PLEASE consider making a $10 donation today by 3 pm EDT to A Place to Bark via this Facebook link.  Help Bernie Berlin's animal rescue win today's $1000 bonus award for getting the most daily donors today in America's Giving Challenge.

Details found in my post from yesterday or at Bernie's blog here.

Thanks!  I'll be back to my sewing projects next time...
  

tuesday: spread the word!

Today I expected to again turn my attention to the holiday-palette quilted pilllows I've been working on these past few days.

But my morning-coffee-&-blog-reading ritual lead me to the latest update from A Place to Bark, one of my favorite animal causes, so today's sewing must wait awhile.

Turns out we need to spread the word today so that TOMORROW before 3 pm EDT (that's noon here in Phoenix) as many folks as possible will donate $10 to A Place to Bark via this America's Giving Challenge link on Facebook.

(This requires me to confess that yes, I'm a member of Facebook -- that's FB: The Wrinkled Edition as I like to think of it, since 2 of my 3 kids feel I'm waaay too old for such things.)

I believe you need to join/be a Facebook member to donate through the Facebook link.

If you need to be reminded why A Place to Bark is one of my favorite animal causes, please watch this short video:

and realize that this rescue was built and is run by a huge-hearted woman artist, Bernie Berlin, with help from her husband (recently seriously injured in an auto accident) and a few other dedicated animal lovers.

This year alone, Bernie is on track to save about 600 animals from euthanasia.

A Place to Bark needs money to complete the interior of their new shelter building before Tennessee's winter weather sets in.

Please help by Bernie by spreading the word today, and if you can, by donating $10 tomorrow (Wednesday) morning so they can win Wednesday's $1000 challenge award.

home again

We're back from a soaking weekend visit to our old haunts northern Virginia.  It rained or drizzled almost continuously from the moment we arrived.  The good thing about gloomy weather is that it sometimes seems to make the autumn landscape colors even more vibrant.  The tree colors there will probably peak next weekend, but we enjoyed our preview.

All the rain in the world couldn't put a damper on the beautiful Saturday wedding of my friend's daughter.  It was a day filled with joy.  Here, I peeked over the proud mom's shoulder as she watched the newlyweds enjoy their official first dance.

(Makes me a little misty-eyed to see it again.)

Congratulations and much happiness always to Katie and Steve!  
 

remembering

This weekend we're headed to Reston, Virginia to attend the wedding of the daughter of one of my dearest friends.  We lived in the same neighborhood, and our kids went through school together, played sports together, grew up together.

The photo of Maddie and me above was taken about 5 years ago, along the path through our dear old Reston neighborhood.  To me, it sweetly captures the essence of that neighborhood where my family grew, the wooded path I've walked probably hundreds of times over the years.

At first when we moved there, the path was only mown grass, but soon it was paved. It was the path to the neighborhood playground.

I've walked the path in all seasons; in pouring rain, in pristine snow, on treacherous ice and in sweltering humidity. Dodged poison ivy, wayward brambles, low-hanging limbs, secretive teenagers, and even the occasional deer or suburban coyote.

It filled my pockets with colorful cardinal and blue jay feathers, delicate eggshells, acorns and seedpods, and the occasional wildflower for pressing.

It was a wonderful place for families to grow.

And now, the children who grew up in our neighborhood are old enough to marry, and perhaps someday begin families of their own.

It's all gone by so quickly.

 

direction found

The best thing to do when uncertainty strikes (see previous post) is to just do something.

But even better was to have my brilliant husband suggest what should have been an obvious option at this time of year: make some new pillows in a Christmas colorway.

Why didn't I think of that???... direction found, at least for now.

So that's what I've been working on -- interpreting my recent quilty pillows in my own version of a holiday color scheme.  No Santas or candy canes, just fabrics from my usual palette/stash that will mingle nicely with the colors of the season.

Oddly enough, when I finished my first new pillowtop, I realized that it contained the same colors as these wool felt birds I made for an unfinished mantel garland project last Christmas.  (A reminder of how quickly time flies!)  These birds are made from my own pattern, based on a favorite blank wood bird cutout I bought at a craft store many years ago.  I love the combination of the birds and the Christmas pillow fabrics, and am still contemplating how best to combine them in a finished garland this year.

When I get a few more Christmas pillows done, I'll post more photos.  Meanwhile, it sure feels good to have a focus again. 
 

where to go from here?

Do other creative folks face this question that has been lately nagging at the edges of my consciousness:

Where to go from here?

Do I keep doing more of what I've done recently, because it is familiar?

  Do I return to something satisfying from my past, hoping to find a further-forward path?

Do I try something entirely new and risk having nothing to show for it, and perhaps no feeling of accomplishment?

?
?
?

I can look back over my several years of these blog posts and see the solid evidence of my ADD tendencies.  Something grabs hold of me for a time, and I focus on it intensely.  But then, most often purely by chance, something new catches my interest and off I go.

 

I admire artists who can sustain a focus and develop great expertise in a particular niche, and I wonder how it is they do that?

How are they not distracted, or bored, or simply lured away by the promise of something entirely new and fascinating?

 

My creative detours have included, in no particular order: sewing, gardening, knitting, crocheting, decoupage, traditional and art quilting, lampwork beadmaking, wirework and jewelrymaking, collage and mixed media artmaking, stamping and stampcarving, photography and polaroid transfers.  And probably a few other things I've forgotten at the moment.

 

Part of me wishes I could choose one, or two, or even three things and stick with them.  Get focused.  Develop my niche. But it never seems to happen.

There are just too many possibilities, and I can't seem to ignore them.  Sometimes I even briefly become obsessed.

 

Alas, it's a fault that leaves me a dabbler in much, and master of none.