Isabella Bird Miscellany

original waywardness? wayward :  It's not a word that just rolls off the tongue in everyday conversation. It has a disturbing, poetical rhythm to it, bringing up unsettled thoughts and meanings; in fact, one of the definitions for wayward is unsettled. Think about how sailors would talk of wayward winds that would blow them off course to parts unknown. Then there's the wayward child, willful and capricious, wanting to follow their own inclinations instead of a compiled set of ways. I initially jotted a few notes like: wayward disturbs a contented soul wayward has a mind of its own I never was a wayward child in deed, but more in the mind I tend to think of wayward in negative ways - we all do. However, as I revisit the three statements above, I see an interesting pattern unfolding; one where wayward might have a different definition. Perhaps it's good to have a disturbed soul. It gets us out of a rut. A mind of our own doesn't just fol...

doodles on the side of a wall, graffiti or art? little hands scrawl squiggly, wiggles on a page free, creative marks with no rhyme or reason this is a pony, this is a cloud no resemblance can be seen, but it’s there “aren’t lines supposed to be straight?” comments the adult mind, stuck in a box of rules We’ve lost the ability to just think, to watch clouds and scribble. Doodling away time – what a waste, not productive to jot and color, and heaven forbid, outside the lines. Aren’t lines supposed to be straight? Predictable? What about crossing the proverbial line, bending it or careful, wobbling on it? Walk the line, draw the line, but don’t cross the line. Peek, if you dare to take the chance, at the Alice in Wonderland possibilities on the squiggly side of the line. nothing straight here, except the lines in the corrugated tin These thoughts speak strongly to my keen sense of sensibility. By nature I am organized and productive. I find taki...

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...