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CHAMPAGNE has been part of the WindHorse Arts palette for a very long time. It is one of those colors I have returned to year after year as the holidays approach. Warm gold, silver, pale amber, and the occasional unexpected flash all live together in the glass, changing as the piece moves and never looking quite the same twice. For years, bringing out Champagne has been part of the rhythm of getting ready for the holidays. There are certain colors I automatically begin reaching for as the seasons change, almost without thinking about it. Champagne has been one of them. And perhaps the “without thinking about it” part is exactly why I've decided that this will be its last year as one of my traditional holiday colors.

I've been thinking lately about the difference between continuing something because I still love it and continuing it because I have always done it that way. After more than twenty-five years of working with glass, there are plenty of things I have done simply because they became part of the way I work. Some of those traditions still fit beautifully. Others deserve to be reconsidered every once in a while. That doesn't mean I have stopped loving Champagne. I haven't. It means I want to leave room for the work to change, for new colors to find their way onto my work bench, and for me to follow whatever catches my attention next. Part of being a maker for this long, I think, is knowing when to hold onto something and when to loosen my grip a little.

So rather than waiting until the holidays to bring Champagne out again, I wanted to give it a moment of its own. And the end of September feels like just the right time.

I took this photograph on an early fall day, when the grasses had turned gold while the trees were still holding onto green. Looking across the water, I realized I was seeing Champagne everywhere: warm gold, soft silver, touches of amber, all shifting with the light. It is one of the things I love about working with color - a color can be familiar to me for years, and then one day I walk outside and see it reflected back at me in the landscape. This is Champagne beyond the holidays: a little quieter, a little warmer, and right at home in the turning of the season.

Without really planning it, the colors I've chosen this month have created a small story of their own. September began with the deep, saturated richness of Lasting Light. Then came the brilliant blue of On the Edge of Summer, a color that seemed determined to stretch summer out just a little longer. And now there is Champagne, warm and golden, arriving right at the turn.

This is the part of the year when I am never entirely sure which season I’m in. The windows can still be open in the afternoon, and the mornings have begun asking for another layer. There are still things blooming, still vegetables coming out of the garden, still days that feel remarkably like summer. And then a cool evening arrives, or I notice how early the sun is disappearing, and there is no denying where we are headed.

Champagne seems perfectly at home in that in-between place. It doesn't belong entirely to summer, and despite its long history in my holiday collection, it doesn't need December to make sense. Right now, it feels warm rather than festive, golden rather than glittery, a quiet bridge between what we have just had and what comes next. Soon enough I'll be reaching for the deeper reds, russets, and darker colors that feel unmistakably like autumn. For now, though, I'm giving this longtime favorite a little room of its own. And since this will be Champagne's final year as a traditional WindHorse Arts holiday color, it seems only appropriate to begin its last season by raising a glass to it.  

Yes, I am open!

At the moment, Main Street is in the midst of some fairly major construction. It may look a little daunting, but WindHorse Arts remains open and accessible.

My Fall hours are Friday & Saturday, 11:00 to 3:00 and always available by appointment.

If the construction-- or simply life-- keeps you from visiting in person, you can always find me online. Shopping through my website is also a wonderful way to support my small island business at any time of year.

A Personal Request

I want to end this week’s newsletter with something a little more personal.

This has been a challenging year for WindHorse Arts, and recently a series of unexpected circumstances has stretched my anxiety and my finances a little thinner than usual. In the middle of all of that, my very old and very loved pony, Pretty, has needed significant veterinary care. I am enormously grateful that I am able to get her the care she needs, but I’m also looking at vet expenses that I simply hadn’t planned for.

I’ve thought about starting a GoFundMe, but I keep coming back to the same place. If I’m going to ask for help right now, I would much rather do it through the work I’ve spent the past 26 years creating.  Having horses in my life is a choice I have made, and caring for them is a responsibility I have willingly taken on.

So, if you’ve had your eye on a piece of my jewelry, have been thinking about treating yourself to something, or have gifts to give in the coming months, right now would be an especially wonderful time to make that purchase. I don’t want anyone buying something simply because Pretty has vet bills. I am asking only that if you were already thinking about something from WindHorse Arts, perhaps now could be the time.

And if buying something isn’t in your plans, sharing WindHorse Arts is every bit as welcome. Forward this newsletter to someone who loves color, share my work with a friend, or simply tell someone about what I make. Introducing my work to someone who might love it is a genuine way of supporting this little business of mine.

There is something that feels much better to me about meeting an unexpected financial challenge this way. I get to keep doing the work I love, you get something I made with my own two hands, and together those purchases help me take care of a little old pony I love very much.

Thank you, as always, for being here and for supporting the work that makes this life of mine possible.

Peace, Alison 

WindHorse Arts store and studio are on stolen land of the Wabanaki people, a place currently recognized as Vinalhaven, Maine, nestled in the serene beauty of Penobscot’s Bay. I am grateful to steward this sacred land, honoring its deep roots and rich histories.

Handmade in Vinalhaven, Maine

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