Isabella Bird Miscellany

I sat down in a field to write. It had been recently mowed, the bales already removed. The stubble was coarse and golden with a few seeds scattered here and there. Eventually, birds will eat them or they'll become part of the next crop. The air was warm on my face, and I could hear crickets singing. It was bucolic and pastoral. In the distance stood the old red barn. It used to house cows and pigs, and a store of hay for the winter. Now, a few jumbled things are left inside, and the only creatures are spiders, field mice and swallows. A moss covered bird feeder swings in the gnarled apple tree. The small orchard is old , yet after all the years, it still yields fruit for the picking. This place. This farm. This field holds many memories for me. My Granny's fried potatoes and squash, Papa's big old watermelons, cows gently grazing and chickens pecking around before becoming dinner. Cast iron bath tubs were used as watering troughs. We kids used the...

Reflecting. My uncle passed away last night. He was my one and only uncle. My mom was an only child. My dad had one sister. So, I had one uncle. Uncle Kenny was a military man. When I was young, I thought it was so cool that they got to live in Germany. I didn't even know where that was, but it was somewhere I'd never been; still haven't. Almost five years ago, my hubs and I took a road trip to where I was born. It had been scads of years since I'd been to Lakeport. However, I found where my grandparents lived - along with my uncle, aunt and cousins. I thought about the grand adventures Terry and I had. The house no longer existed, but the plot with block retaining wall and outdoor barbecue did. Returning from a jaunt overseas and to Texas, my cousins landed in the Olympia area. We'd take trips up the I5 corridor to see them. In return, they'd travel to Eugene where our grandparents had a farm. As kids, we'd play for hours in the woods and walk w...