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September arrives and suddenly everyone starts talking about fall, which always feels a little rushed to me. There are still three perfectly good weeks of summer left, and I intend to use them. Swimming, of course, remains high on my list, as does soaking up the gorgeous afternoon light and appreciating the few flowers and determined vegetables that have somehow made it through this drought-filled summer.

I'm in no particular hurry to move on to the next season, although apparently I am very much in the minority.  

The rest of the world appears to have moved on. Dunkin’ rolled out its fall menu on August 19th, Starbucks declared fall officially underway on August 25th. Apparently the seasons are now determined by corporate beverage departments rather than the position of the earth in relation to the sun. Pumpkin spice has begun its annual takeover while I'm still swimming and waiting for my first tomato. I've nothing against pumpkins I would simply like them to wait their turn - summer is still very much here!

 And yet things are changing. The days are getting shorter, the sun is sitting a little lower in the sky and the light is beginning to arrive at a different angle. Mornings are cooler, and evenings come a little earlier. None of it happens all at once, and maybe that is exactly what I love about this time of year. There is something beautiful about being in the middle of a transition, when one thing hasn't quite ended and the next hasn't quite begun.  

I'm realizing that I have a tendency to rush these in-between places. I can be so busy anticipating what comes next that I forget to notice what is happening right now, and September seems particularly good at reminding me of that. There are still warm granite rocks, long swims and afternoons that could easily belong to August, alongside cooler mornings, earlier evenings and that unmistakable shift in the air. I don't have to decide whether it feels like summer or fall; I can simply pay attention to the changing of one into the other.

Lasting Light feels made for this in-between place. The glass is a rich plum and as it moves through the light flashes of copper and gold and pink appear catching around the edges sometimes the plum takes over and sometimes the brighter colors come rushing forward. It changes with the light and the angle, never particularly interested in being just one thing, which is, of course, one of the things I love most about working with dichroic glass.  

Lasting Light feels exactly like the right color to begin September, it isn't really about holding on to summer or hurrying toward fall. It's about noticing this beautiful bit in between: the changing sun, the cooler mornings, the earlier evenings and the flashes of warmth and color that are still very much here. I know the season will change without any help from me. For now, I’m quite content to stay right here and see what the light does next.

Studio Notes:

This week finds me back in my studio, once again cutting glass, firing up the kiln and settling into the familiar rhythm of making. After a summer filled with many joy full hours spent welcoming people into my storefront, it feels especially good to have longer stretches of time to experiment, follow my curiosity and begin imagining an entirely new year of color.  

The colors for the remainder of this year have already been chosen, and now I'm beginning the much larger process of planning for 2027. It starts with pulling sheets of glass from the shelves, layering colors together and making small samples to see what happens once they've been transformed by the heat of the kiln. Some combinations emerge exactly as I imagined them, while others surprise me completely - or send me back to the shelves to begin again.

At this point, I'm thinking about the colors that might carry us through the quiet of winter, into the first light of spring and onward through another island summer. There will be returning favorites entirely new colors and undoubtedly a few that haven't revealed themselves to even me yet. For now, the studio tables are covered with glass, possibilities, and the very beginnings of 2027

Which color would you Love to see again?

As I began imagining the colors for 2027, I would love to hear which ones from years past have stayed with you. Perhaps there was a color you missed, one you have always wished would return or simply one that remains a favorite. If a favorite comes to mind, I would be delighted to hear from you as I began shaping the year ahead.

With Gratitude

Every time you stop into my store, place an order online or introduce someone new to my work, you become part of what makes my small independent business possible.

Thank you for continuing to make room for WindHorse Arts

and for all the colors yet to come.

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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