Isabella Bird Miscellany

A weekend road trip saw me getting my “Fruit Loop” on.  Before you start to think – uh, crazy - (which is quite possible) the Fruit Loop is a 35 mile drive through the Hood River Valley.  It’s strewn with orchards and vineyards and Mt. Hood living large in the background.  It was an iconic fall day; crisp morning with a marine layer that dissolved into a pleasant afternoon, definitely a fall-lover’s daydream.  While greedily living the tour de Fruit Loop, snatching up apples, pears and snapping photos galore, my attention was captured by a strange, yet familiar contraption.  Somewhere in the recesses of my childhood mind’s eye, I saw them, plopped in an old grove of walnut trees – smudge pots! Looking much like a rendition of the Tin Man, these gadgets have a very warming purpose.  Blanketing orchards with a smoky layer of balminess (certainly a stretch of the word) to help prevent old Jack Frost from nipping the setting fruit. My much younger self remembers the low-lying

Reflecting and allowing my soul to quiet I’ve been living the surreal…and it’s a disorienting place. Decisions we make set a course – choosing schools, picking who we hang with, jobs, marriages, blah, blah, blah.   Even small picks like what we eat and our sleep habits affect us to varying degrees.  Then, out-of-the-blue, you are smacked with the big stuff – those defining moments that wallop a punch; throwing you into that surrealistic state of not wanting to believe it’s true, that you will wake from the bewildering dream that is reality.  Fortunately, these moments are not the everyday. This past weekend my family encountered a defining moment – my brother was missing.  The details are not the important part of the experience; the responses are.  We had a desperate need which required ultimate trust.  The week prior I’d been reading about determined faith – it’s intense.  Now, I needed to live that determination.  My conviction was being pressed; what was coming o

Swifts funneling into the chimney at Chapman School, PDX Confession:  I’m a bit of a bird-nerd, but only sort of since I don’t really know much about them.  What counts is watching them, hearing their chirping-squawking noises and their flight patterns are astonishing.  How is it that they never run into each other?  I’ve never seen a bird fender bender.  During the month of September Vaux Swifts use the chimney at Chapman School as a stop-over roosting spot on their annual migration to South America.  The watching-event attracts thousands of Portlandia dwellers, including me.  When I mentioned it to one of my sisters, she replied “Who are they?”  Not a who, but a what.  Here’s a peak into my night life: Sky shows burst with glittering showers of light performing acrobatic feats against an onyx background to the ooo’s and aahh’s of the crowd below. On a waning September evening, against a dusky background a shower of graceful, fluttering aerial acrobatics entices oo

Let freedmon ring ... reign I remember… Like so many other people, I remember this day, the events that transpired and how I felt.  Waking to a phone call from my husband…he left a message on my phone.  It said, “honey, turn on the TV, don’t be afraid.  I’ll protect you.”  I received the message before even being aware of what had taken place on the other side of our country. Switching the television on, I couldn’t even begin to comprehend what I was seeing.  The images seemed like some warped Quentin Tarantino, post-apocalyptic movie.  The scenes were surreal and the skies outside were eerily silent, except for the clarity of birds chirping. This morning, as I awoke and went about my usual routine of coffee and devos outside, I was transported back to 2001.  It was a clear blue, blustery, mild morning, very much like what I was enjoying today.  The exception that I noted was there were planes in the skies above me.  For that simple happening I am very grateful. An

Belly view Swimsuit on, sun pile driving my body with its intense rays… Lying in the grass, flat on your belly (if your belly is flat; maybe I should say a wee bit bulged) certainly gives you a unique view.  I mean it’s not even close to the same as what you see when you are face-up staring at the clear blue expanse, dusted with cotton clouds and jet streamers crisscrossing in string-art patterns. While indulging in a massive hit of vitamin D, I studied the activity and scenery.  It was incredibly abuzz.  If you look closely at the photo, you’ll see an industrious honey bee sipping sweet goodness from the white clover that fills our lawn.  It can be considered a plague to turf purists, but bees and little kids who pick the blossoms and suck the nectar would beg to differ.  Oily ants, which I’m not fond of, roamed through doing whatever it is that they do.  A total sidetrack, but have you ever noticed that ants taste like they smell?  Don’t ask how I know, just trust me

misty morning looking out at Depot Bay Just like everyone else trying to cram in more sun-filled excitement, last week was our final getaway for the summer.  We had time with our kids and grandkids on both ends, but sandwiched in between was a couple of days at the beach. I adore the beach !  Warm and sandy or a stormy, craggy perch to view, like the gulls...ahhh, I’m smitten.  The melody of the waves crashing or gently lapping is quieting and cathartic; I’m infinitely aware of how small I am in contrast to the vast sea. The snippet of down time plopped in the center of an upending, brutal few months was just what my soul needed.  Breathing musty, salt air, allowing the wind to pummel sand against me – which by the way, gives you perfect beach hair, not the try-to-get-it from-a-bottle-type – and time to write.  Observation:   My last post was three weeks ago…that’s sad-sack stuff. dis-si-pate disperse, scatter, squander, separate into parts and disappear or go away