Isabella Bird Miscellany

It's the last day in October, Halloween. The slant of the afternoon sun is low. My backyard is filled with so much sun in the summer, but now it wears long shadows from the neighbor's trees. wind child, unseen, nevertheless felt no origin or home wind child comes and goes, disturbing all she blows through and past over and under, tossed and turned wind child blusters and plays a mirthful game of hide and seek The wind is loud in the pines and junipers; melodic in the aspen that still holds onto a few leaves. Curdled clouds are blowing in and my cup sits half full, milky and sweet. autumn:  a period of maturity verging on decline the free dictionary.com Most of the leaves have fallen and gathered themselves into messy piles around the yard; a last magnificent burnished hoorah before everything becomes shades of grey dusted in white. So, this afternoon I'll relish the faint warm rays as they touch my face, watch the shifting...

My laptop sits on a makeshift desk. It's situated in an east facing window. From my window I see the neighborhood where I live, and an intense ruddy maple tree. At the base of the tree is a dry creek bed  we created this summer. It's now full of the red leaves, recently blown from branches.  Allowing my gaze to go beyond the maple, a tall pine stands and the pale medallions of the aspen glint in the afternoon light. The colors and splendor of the dying and drying leaves affects me every year. I wish I could capture the enticing beauty with photos and words worthy of the display. Copperhead Road plays in the background. The name kind of goes with this piece; a nice strong beat vibrating, much like my heart when autumn arrives. autumn sun rises slowly,  splintering the horizon into blushing skies that appear to the strain of birdsong wild geese honk their lonesome ballad,  taking flight in early morning mist falling gently on grass...

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

aspen leaves look like golden coins tinkling from weathered white branches wind child, unseen, nevertheless felt; no origin or home.  wind child comes and goes, disturbing all she blows through and past,  over and under, tossed and turned.  wind child blusters and plays a mirthful game of hide and seek I stepped out the front door to a blast of wind. It wasn’t hot and it wasn’t cold, just wind gusting on an autumn afternoon. Why do we use the word fall more than autumn? Dry leaves clattered down the sidewalk, as a cloud of dirt and debris from a nearby construction site forced me to close my eyes, and I hoped Bella was doing the same. Taking a left on the next block, pine needles lay like pick-up sticks on the sidewalk and late season purple asters grew. My senses were on high alert. The wind does that; it disturbs everything. I felt it blowing hair out of my face; saw it kicking up and knocking down leaves of almost irid...

great white throne, zion national park rock formations rise into sea-colored skies                 crags and checkerboard patterns created and being created desert-scape overlaid with carvings scribbled into the rock                 by The Hand and elements The Hand created Places evoke feelings, and certain places string together extraordinary feelings.  One such spot for me is Zion National Park. I’ve been there four times.  The first was quite a few years back.  Our family stayed in the lodge, watched the overly friendly deer, hiked and played in the fallen leaves while listening to a Kenny G Christmas CD.  It was beautiful and mesmerizing.  Each subsequent trip has become a sort of spiritual pilgrimage; a gift from the earth. The peaks that intersect with the heavens are l...

specks of vine maple autumn:    a period of maturity verging on decline (the free dictionary.com) It arrived this week. Yep, fall officially debuted on my calendar, with its cooler nights and warm days, bushes screaming for attention while the leaves are in the throes of death, to quote my husband. I love autumn; crunching leaves with my feet like a little kid and eating bowls of soup that have been ignored while the weather was scorching.  I like to slip a fuzzy scarf on with my t-shirt, since the temps are in between…and did I mention the leaves?  Yeah, I kinda did.  Big, small, gold, burnt umber, okra and coffee colors; some crinkling and others still pliable, at least for now. crinkling Walking in my neighborhood is like a kaleidoscope, ever changing as you turn the lens.  The same occurred on a long - over 200 mile - drive about last weekend.  Every corner of the long and windin...