Isabella Bird Miscellany

I’m a list maker; jotter-downer-of-words, thoughts and  tons of to-dos. They’re written by hand, put in my phone and typed into documents on my computer. I use lists to keep myself organized, to remember fleeting ideas to be revisited for whatever reason.  Sometimes there is no reason, I merely liked the phrase. You might say that lists are my muse.  This is especially true when I use writing a list to excite my writing.  Usually those lists are merely words that fall under some sort of heading like “things that are orange” or “things that start with the letter Y.” A few days ago, I was reading back through an old journal and I came on a list entitled, “things that are opening.”  The way it flowed was almost poetic.  It had an interesting cadence. I wanted to edit the list completely, but somehow the raw, not completely refined version seems better … just left open …                 my eyes, my heart, new stores and restaurants flower buds and doors w

Do you ever have those moments when you see, hear or smell something and you are instantly transported to another place and time?  It’s almost like time travel in your emotional head.  I do this quite frequently and the places I travel allow me to relive experiences. Our senses are powerful.  They are how we encounter life.  I taste a strawberry and know that early summer has arrived.  Smelling salt air tells me I’m near the beach.  Listening to a 60’s mix and I’m recalling junior high dances, hoping that whoever my “crush” was at the time would ask me to dance. On my way to work I take a roundabout which circles up and past some homes that have a desert-scape loaded with blazing wildflowers.  To me, California poppies are wild since they are scattered along roadsides and creep into neighborhood gardens.  Blue flax and orange-red Oriental poppies were in the blend. Seeing the flax and poppies was one of those sensory, time-travel flashes, and eve