Isabella Bird Miscellany

frozen drips waiting for release Sitting in silence. It’s still dark outside. White lights on the Christmas tree reflect off the dangling colored ornaments. Stock simmers on the stove. Drips can be heard outside; it’s the first day in a week above freezing. Yesterday, I posted a graphic I’d saved. It simply read, “Silence calms my soul.” Silence is a gift. Silence is golden. Silence is often missed; not even an operative word. We live with so much noise, chatter continually happening, externally, yes, but internally. Sitting in silence , I listen for sound; the stockpot lid starting to rattle, more melting and splashing, the coffee pot’s gurgling, my dog stretching and changing position. In silence I hear these things that might otherwise be missed. Thousands of years ago, shepherds sat in the silence of the night. I imagine there was a warm, crackling fire and stories of the day being shared among friends.  Their silence was broken with a great anno...

little hands reaching for the wonder It was a weekend of Christmas events – the season is in full swing, carols of cheer ring through shops and festivities. The massive tree downtown had the switch flipped, illuminating it with thousands of tiny colored lights while onlookers sipped hot chocolate topped with a mound of swirled whipped cream. People chatted and warmed themselves around small half kegs turned into fire pits and raised to table height. It looked like a scene out of a Dickens story only set in modern day America. Saturday was parade day, a parade like only happens in a small city; marching bands and floats with scouts and girls’ dance teams; prancing horses with jingle bells and the requisite pooper-scooper tagging behind. Bystanders waved and wished all a “Merry Christmas” with an equally enthusiastic response. A heartwarming and genuine spirit of Christmas. And...more hot chocolate and Santa making his grand appearance at the tail end of the parade that woun...

winter seeds, all is not dormant Soft season of quiet anticipation, blankets with mist and snow Preparing for the dormant time   Sweet solitude balms the weary, all is in calm repose Patient and silent in winter’s rest   Come gentle season of peace and stillness, envelope in candlelight and flickering fire Welcome Counselor, welcome Advent   Solus Christus Sunday was the beginning of Advent, a time marked with anticipation of something, someone to come. It’s a time of expectant waiting; things coming into being. I am quiet. I am anticipating. I am waiting for things to come into being. Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance

thanksgiving: grateful acknowledgement of divine favor     Pine needles lay like pokey Pick-Up-Sticks on the sidewalk. I notice them as I walk; that and cracks, pebbles and dirt that washed from a flower bed in a recent rain. Stuff scattered on the sidewalk. It’s not clean. It’s rather messy. Thanksgiving is tomorrow; a day marked on the calendar to acknowledge the good things in our lives. This is good, right? For a lot of us the answer is “yes,” but this year, more than ever, I’m keenly aware of how desperately painful the Holidays can be. People’s lives and relationships look like the messy sidewalk, so they don’t want to walk there. I get that; it looks like there’s nothing good to acknowledge. There is a calmness to a life lived in gratitude, a quiet joy – Ralph H Blum Walking, I look more closely at the pine needles, seeing the slender taper, the soft brown color and the patterns they leave on the sidewalk. The cracks spider-out like delicate s...

life in a crack We left the city yesterday, wet leaves covered sidewalks; brown and at the end of their season. It had been nice to walk neighborhoods, dart into cafes for coffee or a drink. It was grey in a melancholy sort of way, with a fresh breeze. Being reminded of traffic, activity, and people. The places we gravitate filled with the not-mainstream people. I’m intrigued with their stories and thoughts, often different from mine. Bridges and highways, buildings old and new, some dilapidated, others restored. The rush and crush continues, all covered with leaves set in grey. Written in Seaside, about Portland while in our hip, urban loft-esque industrial hotel. Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance

look at the birds, free and unfettered Earlier this week, after walking around the lake and stopping on the dock to watch the water, I was mindful of the rippled surface. It was still water, there was still a sandy bottom scattered with stones. It was the surface, not the substance that was different. Peace, be still – Missy If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance

meet isabella bird Things toss us around, messing with our peaceful being; big stuff and small irritations. You know that unsettled or just plain angry attitude that can drape us like a wet blanket. Yeah, that one, and I was wearing it – not sure why, but I was. Most mornings I take my Bella girl for a walk before work. Today was no exception. Time is short on work days, so the pace was quick. Belle is a funny girl, all brave one moment and frozen in fear the next. There’s a grade school near us, and like most, someone comes over the loud speaker at the beginning of the day to say good morning and give a few announcements. My sweet puppy has taken to being afraid of the voice in the wind. There’s no apparent reason, really, it’s a voice. Nonetheless, she is frightened. Lesson from a brown dog: we are held securely and talked to in a soothing voice when the loud speaker is blaring When this happens, she freezes and won’t go another step, or she tries to dart...