Isabella Bird Miscellany

How long does it take to make a tradition? Is there some sort of parameter, or is it something that just comes to be? By definition, a tradition is something passed down from generation to generation, but how are new ones established? I mean, they have to have a beginning. That little diatribe to say, my cute man and I have a new Christmas morning rhythm, since tradition might be too strong of a word. After coffee, breakfast and the Christmas story, we donned our hikers and headed out to walk the trail at Shevlin Park. Others had the same idea as we met families large and small; folks out for a run both with and without furry friends in tow. The mood was congenial with Holiday greetings. I made it my mission to say “Merry Christmas” to everyone we met. The day was stellar, cold, crisp air, ice crystals sparkling in the late morning sunshine. The beginning of the trail is enclosed in bare-branched trees that only a couple months ago ...

It was 14 degrees when I went for a walk the other morning. Three layers under my puffy, wool socks, fur lined boots, checked scarf and a knitted beanie. Oh, and omni-heat gloves, but my hands were still cold. The morning fog was clearing and tiny ice particles drifted from the frosted air, dusting everything in delicate white. Faint sunshine was marginally warmer than the shadows. Interesting, at that temperature, to experience a meager difference. Belle was oblivious, romping and sniffing in the cold, while I wandered, observing. Observing iced trees hung with pinecone ornaments and glistening leftover crab apples. They looked like candied apples to pluck. Diminutive birds fluttered from branches overhead, joyous, as one would expect. And a squirrel or two ventured out, fleet of foot. I found myself humming " Walking in a Winter Wonderland ." It's one of my favorite Christmas songs, always reminding me of my Granddaddy. Later on, we'll conspire, ...

The lights just clicked on. The ones we hung outside last Friday when the day was bright and fair. Today it’s cloudy and cold. It’s dark earlier. So, the lights just clicked on. It’s pretty. If I squint, the white fairy lights look like tiny gleaming stars. Bordering on gazing at an inky sky, dotted and specked with minute bursts of light. Two Moravian stars with multi-faceted points hang. They sway with the breeze. Moving to the wind’s breathed music. They reflect in the open window; mirror images, star duets. Santa arrives in a helicopter descent at the Old Mill. He sets up shop, elves and reindeer to join later. High fives, and shy giggles, the kids approach. Innocent, bright eyes wide open and hopeful. It’s a magical and expectant season. It’s Advent. Advent – the arrival of the awaited One – is more than my lights clicking on, the Moravian stars dancing and my grandkids’ wonder at the arrival of Santa. I love each of these experiences and the ...

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

"the best tree ever" he exclaimed! It’s the same story every year.  I look, I search, I contemplate.  Trees have to be pirouetted around so I can see all the angles.  That’s the Christmas-tree-lot-version.  This year, my fam is going out to cut a tree; very Griswald like.  In years past, this was our tradition, complete with a bonfire, thermoses filled with hot chocolate and mulled wine; hot dogs to roast on fresh cut sticks. Mostly, we’d tromp around in the woods, giving each potential tree a once over, until that “Hallelujah Chorus” moment arrived.   The only problem it was on the other side of an icy cold creek, with banks and drifts of equally cold and deep snow.  Well, hubby being the really swell guy that he is managed to cross the water without drenching himself.  He cut the tree, floated it downstream to a more appropriate place to bring it up the bank, to present me with my prized Noble Fir.  That was the sto...

advent:  a coming into being I’m a city girl.  I miss the city, the din of traffic and construction; the crushing music of urbanity.  I’m becoming accustomed to a slower pace, filled with a handful of street lights and natural sounds.  I’m finding that when one thing is missed, others come into being. stumbling in the dark no street lights... no flash lights... no head lights black skies littered with stars bright and brilliant distant night lights shooting and dancing iridescent sparklers invisible in the light so I stumble Advent is all about watching for an arrival; things to come into place.  The word is connected to the Holiday Season, as we eagerly await Christmas and the birth of a tiny baby.  One way or another Advent, the arrival of Emmanuel needs to influence more than a certain time of year.  We need Him to crash into culture in general and our private lives, specifically – always.  Like stars that are ...

moss covered bricks, littered with the remnants of fall and the beginning of Christmas I broke down and put some Christmas music on yesterday.  I’ve tried a few other times … it just seems wrong when I haven’t roasted a turkey yet.  I blame my brother.  He was visiting and was all like “Its Christmas all day, every day, Missy.  You don’t know…”  Being a good big sis and all, Christmas music was cranked up on the ipod.  Confession:  something happened and I’ve been streaming an off-beat Christmas station today.  The Holidays are clattering and clamoring and I’m pretty relaxed – odd. Like an old VHS tape (remember the sticker on them, “please be kind, rewind?”) I’ve been rewinding and re-watching this last year.  A thumbnail:  upheaval, chaos and disorder, uncertainty, fear and confusion were the adjectives.  We were moving; packing up our life to regenerate it in a town once known as home in distant corners of our...