Winter in Maine

            It was nine degrees below zero this morning as I waited with my son at the bus stop.  And I’ll admit it - it was a little rough. But when asked about the winters here in Maine, I like to gush about how under appreciated they are. A typical day in January up here is cold, yes. But it is also usually blindingly sunny with a sky so blue it looks like it was ripped out of a children’s book.  And the ground is covered in white snow that, no matter how old and dirty, still looks pristine in the sunlight. The wind will steal your breath and sometimes the air does freeze the goodies in your nose, but with the right long johns and a travel mug of decaf, being outside is manageable. And coming inside after being outside, to a stoked wood stove and wool slippers, is nothing short of perfection. Maine in winter, in January, is usually more than fine. It is spectacular.

          

My Annual Pre-Holiday Freak Out

While waiting at the airport for our flight home from my sister’s house yesterday, my feelings of ease and contentment after a great Thanksgiving filled with food and relaxation turned to panic as I started my mental list-making of everything that I had to get done before Christmas. Gift-getting, decorating, meal planning, hosting, baking…. how could I possibly ever do it all? My happily full belly was suddenly twisting with angst.

I took a walk to Hudson News and returned with a notepad, a pen, and a cheesy womens magazine with a cover that promised me all the secrets to my “Happiest Season Ever”.  I had found the answer. This was going to solve all of my problems.

Throughout our flight home I took furious notes and dog-eared pages as I scoured the magazine from front to back. By the time we landed, I had my simplification plan, which read, in part:

1. Make my own giftwrap out of brown craft paper and colored tape.

2. Knit a stocking for our dog and fill it with handmade dog biscuits.

3. Replace beer and wine at our Christmas Eve dinner with  homemade peppermint schnapps punch.

4. Shop for a vintage festive punch bowl at local flea markets (see #3).

Meant to be...

So much of life can be a struggle.  So when something is smooth and effortless, and feels so easy and meant-to-be, it is such a gift.

That is what happened when we were discovered by our newest artist Mindy Veissid. Mindy is the creator of the Art of Intuitive Photography in New York City and will be coming to Idyllworks next fall, at the peak of our autumn color, to teach a digital photography workshop to our guests.

Mindy is warm, smart, crazy talented and has that rare generosity of spirit that we are constantly looking for and must have in all of our Idyllworks teachers. She uses simple digital cameras to show her students how to discover and use their own intuition to take beautiful and creative photos. She helps her students unlock their inner artist, the one that was always there but buried beneath their fear of failure. She can turn an insecure “auto mode” camera user into a confident and creative photographer in just two days.

This is her magic.

Mindy’s philosophy aligns perfectly with our commitment to offer our guests a mindblowing creative experience that will impact not only their weekend but the rest of their lives.  She recognized our shared vision, reached out to us, and we now have an extraordinary workshop planned for some lucky Idyllworks guests.

Too easy? Maybe. But I’ll take it.

xo~

elizabeth

Autumn in Maine

Some things we did this year that made it even better…

 • We planted sedum in the garden. It adds a lovely green texture to surrounding blooms all summer and slowly turns to a rose and then a rich cranberry color as the weather turns colder. They call it “autumn joy”, and yes it is.

•  We brought our bikes on board the Casco Bay Ferry to Peaks Island and spent the morning touring this quaint and rustic island. After our ride, we stopped into The Peaks Café for lunch and had a hot cup of coffee. Lyle had cocoa. Perfect.

•  We invested in a portable fire pit and placed it on a heatproof mat to protect the grass. Fall evenings are now spent outside by a cozy fire rather than in front of the TV…

Our September Getaway… Pure Magic!

I am still smiling after a perfect four days with the Amazing Women of September!  Hailing from as far as California and Florida, these ladies brought fun and boldness and laughter and a generosity of spirit that we could only hope for when we created Idyllworks.

We spent our days with the luminous and inspiring Gail Crosman Moore who taught us to be brave, dive in and above all…respect the fleece!  The felted forms that we created and then embellished through needle felting, beads, sequins and painted metals were each unique and beautiful and like nothing we had made before.  She led us and yet somehow, at the same time, she set us free. She is a master teacher, a gifted artist, and an extraordinary woman.

Caution: Old Lady Running

About six weeks ago, I did the strangest thing.  I went to my gym – the same gym that I have been going to for years, where I know every member, every machine, every class schedule and every instructor - and I cancelled my membership. I went downtown to a wonderful locally owned store and bought a pair of frighteningly expensive and flashy turquoise running shoes. And then I put in my headphones, pulled on a baseball hat so no one would recognize me, and I went for a run.

I am not a runner and never have been. I used to run in high school to stay in shape for the sports that were actually fun, like soccer and field hockey. And I once pretended I was a runner to catch the attention of a guy I liked in New York. I would hide behind a tree in Central Park when I knew he was going on his run, and then as he neared I would leap out and run past him. Needless to say, we never dated…

But here I was now. Running. Trudging, really. And I didn’t know why, except that it felt like something I needed to do. My ankles throbbed and my lungs burned.  I peed a little bit in my pants. I had been going to the gym regularly, but this was hard. I had to stop and walk.  A lot.  But then, after a few times, I started walking less and running a little more. And then a little more.

Stephanie Sersich on The Art of Teaching Non-Artists

I love to teach folks who have never "done art" before.

Often they have been making things their whole lives (meals, friends, schedules, babies, messes) and were just unconscious of creating. Getting in touch with one's own artistic sensibilities is tough, purely because it is conscious. By the time we are adults, we've developed some sort of fear of expression because we've become more conscious. It's why kids have fun making anything from paper-plate masks to iced cookies. There is no self-consciousness, no fear.