Thanks for the Fun Mr. Poe!

I have been having a great time with Halloween this season. It is a wonderful opportunity for pushing all the imagination buttons, though I don't think I've really pushed mine for thirty or so years. Out in the country we don't see trick or treaters. 

However, this year the contageous Halloween spirit filtered through the fun folks at my workplace and into the cubicles. Before I knew it, my habit of paper cutting odd birds took a turn, thanks to a suggestion from my husband. By the end of the week my cubicle was a goofy combination of ravens (sort of), Poe's words, eyes, witches, black roses and other nutty things. I had fun and other folks in the building did as well. I missed seeing all the cubicle transitions. A friend in the space across from me put together a great mad scientist's lab. It's amazing what can be accomplished in a short bit of time before and after work. 

On Friday some folks arrived in really creative costumes. No decision has been made about whether to remove the faux feathered raven from the top of my black straw hat. After all, it might need to be ready for next year. It was worn alone, but was originally going to accompany the mask above. One five minute test drive at home let me know, NOT. Very uncomfortable. Instead a head shape was covered with draped black fabric, eyes painted and placed in the sockets, masked, and the whole thing rode atop my upper shelf. It gave me a scare more than once, when rising and coming face to face with it. Everything else in there was pretty tame.  

I took a few photos (big surprise) around the office and caught one of the masked raven. I just couldn't resist scaring myself one more time, so today I married it to another photo taken earlier this month, of a vintage umbrella. Let's hope the mania ends here or... Nevermore.

Thanks for the fun Mr. Poe! 

Landing, Landing, Landing

As some of you already know, one of my favorite places to observe birds is the Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge. This shot was taken last fall as geese touched down around me in what seemed a snowstorm of feathers and honks. It was a wonderful half hour or so that I can still hear when senses are willing.

When reviewing photos of that day, I am reminded of another landing twenty or so years ago. While returning to Seattle from California, on a large jet for which I have no number or name, my seat mate and I nervously stretched the limits of our collective dark humor. It was winter and our pilot was attempting to land in a harsh storm, which carried heavy wind gusts and enough lightening bolts to rival a Fourth of July celebration designed by Zeus. As we laughed and kidded about our impending demise the plane rocked and rolled through the sky, as if in sync with a hard rocking tune from the sixties. The lightening flashing about our wings fit right in with the theme. We circled the airport for a LONG time, not able to land because of the line up of rockers ahead of us.

When we finally began our decent, the plane (read pilot) defied odds by keeping the tilting to more of a crowd wave; wing to wing. Back and forth we drifted, tipping wings and bumping up and down. Every few seconds the lightening would flash allowing us to see our speeding "progress". One final lightening flash outside our window and we were bouncing and bucking our way down the runway. Just as we were completing our final few bounces, the female Attendant announced; "Ladies and Gentlemen, we are landing...landing...landing...in Seattle and we want to thank you for joining us on this exciting ride." Following a rousing round of applause from the passengers we departed, many stopping to vigorously shake the hand of the pilot.

Humor. It really can make all the difference. Beyond being grateful for our safe arrival that night, to this day, I remain equally grateful that serendipity placed the right fellow beside me for the ride. Someone else who saw the humor in their fear. As we headed our separate ways following our departure, we were both still laughing. Each time I look at this photo, along with the wings and honks, I hear "we are landing, landing, landing..."

Wrong Turns

Wrong turns can yield such fun surprises. 

Firsts and Lasts

Seasonal shifts. Always interesting...where and how the shifting signs appear. On a misty spring morning in Sandpoint, Idaho (above) the change seemed represented by firsts and lasts. The first boat to dock at the marina and the last goose out. 

Seasonal shifts. Fine prompters of appreciation, causing us to stop and take notice. Reminding us to breath deeply of the now crisp air. We were greeted with a temp of 34 degrees this morning. Soon the deep breaths will flow more freely indoors while outdoors takes a rest.

Transitions. Markers. Seasonal shifts.

Handmade Papers

Inside the home of colorful pots (see earlier image) lives, among other things, an ever changing selection of handmade papers. Imagination ticklers, these. It could be interesting, following the travels of one sheet, beginning to end. Of course that would mean picking one to follow first. Now there is the hard bit. Hmmm.

Nothing Feels More Welcoming

Must do projects fill the morning, 

but my mind is filled
with old doors and favorite places.

Nothing feels more welcoming to me than

going through doors worn by time 

and crossing the thresholds thousands of
feet have crossed before mine.

Certainly this threshold has seen far fewer
entrants, but that door.
Oh yeah, that door. 

A Warm Summer Stroll

It "seems" schedules are calming and I may have a chance to bring Sea Mist and Sunsets back into my circle of activities. Unfortunately, that sounds like a repetition of phrases uttered here a good deal this year. I'm not sure about the rest of you but, when I am swamped the creative side of my brain slows to a grinding halt. This seems a good time to oil my mental gears and get things moving again. Slowly at first. No doubt I'll gain momentum. Who can resist falls dance through the Northwest and soft camera callings.

The image above was taken during a warm summer stroll in Sequim, WA with a dear friend. Sequim is the home of the lavender fields shown in earlier posts.