Signs of Fall

David and I went on our annual pilgrimage to Iowa, where I saw a few hints of the coming change.

As fall wends its way across the country, my attention turns from the outside, to inside projects. I taught two classes at the beginning of October in Sequim, where wide skies are framed by the Olympic range, starting to show a bit of snow on top.
















The students in my paper doll and doll making 101 classes at the Fiber Arts Festival were way more interested in creating new work than in the scenery outside.



The Crab Festival the following weekend in Port Angeles was an opportunity to talk up the new Port Angeles Arts Council and display the painted wine barrels, available for bids online until the first week in November. Mine is on the left.









To my East Coast friends, who think of crabs as annoying body parasites: No, ours are the pink and delicious kind that we Love to eat, when we can afford them or when we know someone who owns a crab pot. The line for food at the crab festival stretched for a block, so I went down to
the west end of town and bought my own.



I was inspired by one of the food demonstrations that Sandy Long and I saw, to make crab salad with avacado and cilantro, using Farmers' market cherry tomatoes. The original recipe also included apple and mustard, and was Delicious! Sandy was right on the spot to get a sample from each demonstration. Notice the West Coast tall cup of coffee in the upper left, from beans roasted by our local Princess Valiant. The demos were by Bella Italia and Karen Long's husband, who is now operating out of Itty Bitty Buzz...sorry I can't remember the business name. Their crab puffs are awfully good and they do catering.



I'm trying to do a LOT of walking, as the cooler
weather makes buttery foods even more
enticing than usual. My kitchen is in the center
of the house, as it should be, and it's almost enough just to smell a piece of bacon cooking.

Even better to eat it, with a heated goodie from Bell St. Bakery...I'm especially partial to the cheddar scones and the cheese danish and the chocolate croissants...







There are some spots of color here almost as good as my beloved Vermont. In the Northwest the red maples may have been imported, since I see them mostly in town, and always framed by tall, tall evergreens.







I can mark the changes without leaving my computer desk by the big willow down the hill from me, decked in bright green-gold in the moments when the rain stops for sun.


I've learned that falls and winters here mean many dark days, sometimes unrelenting rain pounding on my skylights, but with enough bursts of sun to keep me going, and the Many, Many varieties of gray and mist and downpour and drizzle that give the "thirty-seven names for rain" of my painting title, Moment of Pure Joy.