Isabella Bird Miscellany

I've always said that I'm a "dial-a-season" girl. Leaves and gorgeous colors in the fall, and I like snow at Christmas because, well, it's supposed to be snowy then, unless you live in Australia. Christmas in the summer does mess with you head when you've always experienced Christmas in the winter. Seasons just don't work on my personal whims! I've always said that I'm a "dial-a-season" girl. Anyway, I'm trying really hard to embrace all of the white stuff that we've been receiving this year. Granted, it is beautiful, covering the landscape in frosty wonder, and as I look at it through my camera lens, I do see the beauty instead of of the shoveling and sliding around. Have a look at what I'm enjoying through my camera's eye . These brave snow birds clung to branches on a walk through Drake Park. They didn't seem to mind one little bit that their tree was coated in ice. They continued to sing th...

red twigs emerge with beauty through the drifts of snow Ode to the winter wonderland that I find myself in, where all is white with shades of gray, except for the kids dressed in snow pants and bright hats and scarves. To venture out into the frigid temps, a daring feat of layer upon layer; moving like molasses. Still, the beauty is stark, serene and surreal. Gone are the days of sunshine and bare feet Tree branches are bare and dark across the snow laden landscape, motionless in the biting air Brittle twigs from last year’s flowers edge through the ice, a poignant reminder of what was Gone are lazy afternoons laying in the grass as puffy clouds drift overhead The frozen lake now dons the footprints of would-be skaters leaving a path of figure-eights And children laugh as they slide down the hill on sleds and red flying saucers Gone are the summertime adventures in shorts with bodies slathered in sunscreen Put away by a winter wonderland of crystalline w...

snowflake covered icicles How full of creative genius is the air in which these are generated!  I should hardly admire more if real stars fell and lodged on my coat – Henry David Thoreau I sat down to write a piece of poetry about Christmas and snow falling.  Words like softly and gently wanted to be written, but they seemed cliché.  You see, a couple of weeks ago someone told me I was all “happy-clappy” about Christmas.  This person knows nothing of my life; the good stuff or the sad.  We simply look at the pasted smile and go about our days, because that is what we are supposed to do. Having allowed myself to get duly worked up, I understood that my outlook had nothing to do with outward circumstances; it’s rooted in my intrinsic values and beliefs.  It’s my distinct gift to open every day. You see, the very first Christmas was not a glitter covered event with gentle snowflakes and hot toddys.  It was in a barn full of animals ...