Isabella Bird Miscellany

Thankful for this man Just in case you didn’t know, today is Thanksgiving Eve-Eve.  Now you’re thinking, what?  Here’s how it is:  Thanksgiving is Thursday, so Wednesday would be Thanksgiving Eve and since this is Tuesday, it’s Eve-Eve.  Confused yet? Since it is Eve-Eve most of us have our minds and selves working overtime in preparation for the gathering feast.  A trip to the market, and then another  to pick up more eggs…baking pies, cutting up sourdough for stuffing, cleaning the house, or at least running the vacuum…oh yeah, wrapping early presents that you want to send home with people to avoid shipping or trying to pack into your Mini Coop.  Frantic mania!  Maybe I’m only describing my life, but I have no doubt your story sounds just like mine – it’s called life. I climbed out of bed around 5:30am – again.  (Side note:  I don’t get up at that time of day, ever!)  My coffee and devo time was quiet and peaceful, but as soon as that was done, my inner spring started wi

Where the red leaf fell I’ve been at the computer all day.  My mind is now working on thinking-overload; then you add the fact that Thanksgiving is next week and, well, burl, dude! Right smack in the crush of to-do’s, I needed to write for my class.  It was one of those, “I have no inspiring, muse-filled thoughts.”  Not a good thing for a writer.  As I rummaged through different concepts in my overloaded mind, I started imagining what Thanksgiving Day was going to be like this year.  The kids and grandkids are coming.  They now became my muse…thankful. mindful noise thanksgiving snapshot hand-print turkeys on the wall browning, curly leaves strewn across the floor half-empty glasses of milk, lots of sticky cookie crumbles... and noise bedecked parade floats and high-flying comic book characters slip along, a Macy's tradition spirited, uniformed teams take the field, coins tossed, whistles blown, touchdowns made... more noise in the background se

Thanksgiving prep: The bird

“That’s burl, dude, just saying,” has to be said with a slight upward head nod and a lot of cool attitude. Now, I must admit that I had not heard the word “burl” used like that until a few nights ago.  We were with some friends who are from Colorado, and it was a phrase they used, kind of like “gnarly, dude.”  As we talked, we all agreed that a burl on a tree is really what life sometimes feels like. gnarly, exquisite burl burls are lumps, knots and warty looking growths probably caused by injury or a fungal disease Wow, that’s a lovely image to float around in your head, like an annoying song that gets stuck in your brain for days and days.  Eventually, though you embrace the tune as your fave. Life is full of unexpected rough, ragged junk, but not all junk needs to be carted off to the nearest dumpster; which is kind of the case with burls.  Because of the disfiguration, strong, intricate, mind-boggling patterns grow in the wood.  Burls are appreciated and crafte

Thanksgiving prep: Ignite the palate starters

A couple of weeks ago, I signed up for a daily writing prompt.   I figured it was a good way to make sure that I wrote every day and was challenged to look at different subjects. Earlier this week the prompt was to write about something that is minced.  Since cooking is a life-giving passion, I immediately thought about garlic, but took it in a different direction:  from the point of view of the garlic.  The short ditty turned out somewhat mischievous and playful. After talking with several people recently, it appears that there are several of us who could use some laughter, mirth and merriment. lighthearted and cheeky There are three key ingredients to most savory dishes in this household – salt pepper and garlic.  It’s like the Holy Grail to cooking. Here’s my take on the subject: Sure, I’m not quite round, sometimes a bit bulbous and my skin is rather papery, thin and fragile.  I peel rather easily, especially if I’ve taken a good smack on the board.  Why do

Love those bike tires... We’ve all done it.  You are walking along and all of a sudden you find yourself on the ground; wondering how it happened, and desperately hoping that no one saw you, but of course someone did.  They’re probably chuckling to themselves, well, because they too have taken that awkward tumble.  This is my recent version of that trip, spill, splat, whatever you want to call it.  Last week I heard Lonny come home and enter through the garage.  Curious, I opened the door to see what was going on.  Usually, it means he has picked up some gleaned treasure that needs to be tucked away until its project time…faucets, springs, you never quite know.  In theory, just stepping out to have a look, I abruptly found myself on the concrete pretty much face to face with my bicycle tires.  Not exactly a graceful move. I’m not the clumsy type; I can walk quite nicely in stilettos, but not that day.  I’m still not sure what happened; whether I caught my heel, misse