By Mary Andersen

Isabel’s hair was blonde, the color of wheat ready to be harvested after having spent an entire summer baking and tanning in the warm glow of the sun. It was long and hung in beautiful light bodied locks down her back, ending just a few inches above her hips. She almost always wore it down, which fit her personality, also relaxed, unpretentious, and free.

Isabel had a natural beauty other women often admired or envied in silence, even though Isabel was impossible to despise. She had no need for makeup. It was her divine simplicity that drew attention to her almost everywhere she went. Her beautiful olive skin was modestly dusted with freckles just around her nose, but not in a way that was unappealing whatsoever. She was fairy-like, usually barefooted or wearing light and simple sandals.

She most always wore cotton frocks in beige, ivory, or pastel colors. She loved to wear jewelry, but nothing loud or of a costume nature. Most of her jewelry she made from hard to find beads, trinkets, and charms she accumulated in her wanderings of old estate sales, auction barns, and flea markets.

She loved things old and was always reviving them into intriguing creations that were incredibly unique and fascinating. She was talented and resourceful in many hobbies and arts. She loved to sew, cook, and create most anything from whatever resources were available. Most all of her clothes were made by her own hands, including lacy and smocked frocks that only served to compliment her innermost beauty.

Her eyes were hazel green, like prisms of glass, so thoughtful and sincere; you often found yourself becoming lost or entranced by her eyes, as if they were a pathway to her innermost soul. Her voice was most always soft, mellow, and sweet; she was not a person to call attention to herself. She didn’t have to; people were always aware of her presence, literally drawn to her, even with her mouse-like, kind, and mild mannered nature.

From the very instance Michael and Isabel met, he was captivated and astounded by her. He came to think of her as his muse, his lover, his friend, and his dearest companion. When she was in the cottage, it was as if everything took on a warm comforting glow, like the soft yet intense color of the sun just before it sets in the early evening. Things sparkled and came alive when she was nearby, and it was as if music was playing even when things were deathly quiet.

Isabel was special, and anyone who was lucky enough to get to know her was fully aware of that, and treasured the opportunity to know someone so unique and naturally appealing. Michael was totally and irreversibly under her spell.