Hope the thing with feathers

The magic you can’t quite see

No matter how vast and dark the world might seem, there’s always a tiny glimmer of hope. Sometimes you just have to look a little harder, that’s all. And believe in the magic you can’t quite see.  

Hummingbirds lay two eggs, on average, and incubate them for about 15-18 days. Mama’s been sitting on her nest for about 20 days now. So if I’ve done the math correctly, she’s probably keeping two hatchlings warm, or will be very soon.

Two, featherless symbols of hope. You can’t see them, cradled as they are in the condo nest that’s situated in a high, dark corner of our tile roof overhang. But you trust and believe, anyway, because when the sun peeks that shadowy space, her iridescent feathers catch fire, igniting your imagination and setting your heart aglow.

Nesting season begins anew

There’s an abandoned hummingbird nest in the giant fuchsia out front. Cupped inside, a pearlescent egg that never hatched.

I swallow hard whenever I see it, remind myself, “It’s nature’s way.” But for a brief moment yesterday, I thought about pruning the branch that holds it in place. Out of sight, out of mind? Hardly. But I thought it might clear the space for possibilities.

But then again, our Thanksgiving guests might enjoy seeing this architectural wonder, equal parts spider silk and cottony magic. No longer camouflaged by leaves and flowers, It bears silent witness to the hatchlings it once housed, and to the fledglings who took to the skies during last year’s nesting season.

Left to the elements, the nest will eventually disintegrate. More likely, the fluff ‘n stuff will be recycled  by mama hummingbirds-to-be. Like this one, who was sipping nectar in our backyard at sunrise.

Nesting season is almost upon us again–maybe as soon as next week, if we’re lucky!

Hope, that thing with feathers…

On the morning after Donald Trump became the GOP’s presumptive nominee

Be still, and the world is bound to turn herself inside out to entertain you. Everywhere you look, joyful noise is clanging to drown out quiet desperation. –Barbara Kingsolver

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This handsome hummingbird made his presence known while I was sitting in my backyard this morning, savoring a steaming mug of coffee. With a flash of his red gorget, he somehow managed to pull me away from the hyperbolic headlines and to notice, instead, the beauty that surrounds me.

When he preened, his gorget flipped. Voilà: Bozo the Clown.  Tend to the things that matter, he seemed to say, but never lose your sense of humor.

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Fight or flight? Given the stakes in this election, I see only one choice. But first, I had to get quiet. We do our best work, I think, when we’re attuned to nature’s beauty, and to the joyful noises all around us.

Can Spring be far behind?

“In the darkest nights of winter,” my Nana always told me, “watch the skies and listen for the robins.”

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I mentioned that very thing, in my blog post last week.

She was right, of course. Again. Because, oh hey, look who’s splashing in my birdbath!

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Rarely have I ever seen robins in this area, and only once before in my own garden. He perched on my soul fence for a single afternoon, and then vanished.

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Such cheerful birds, these harbingers of spring. I’m glad for their company, however long they choose to stay.

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Seems Edward Jenner was equally enthralled by their visits. Here, his love letter to these red-chested beauties:

Address to a Robin
Come, sweetest of the feathered throng,
And soothe me with thy plaintive song;
Come to my cot, devoid of fear,
No danger shall await thee here…

Hop o’er my cheering hearth, and be
One of my peaceful family
Then soothe me with thy plaintive song,
Thou sweetest of the feathered throng.

–Edward Jenner (physician, musician, balloonist, and inventor of modern-day vaccinations, 1749-1823)

Beyond Land and Ocean: Hope carries music on her wings

I’m excited to share the small but personally meaningful role I played in Pacific Symphany’s eagerly anticipated Beyond Land and Ocean.

In creating this musical homage to Orange County, Composer-in-Residence Narong Prangcharoen drew inspiration from personal encounters with our region’s landscapes and people. He also invited local residents to submit artistic responses to two key questions: What makes Orange County home, and what  unites its people?

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Image courtesy of Pacific Symphony Orchestra

As the project moved from creative vision to musical composition (a process chronicled here), Prangcharoen harmonized his personal impressions with community members’ input, including mine. The resulting piece makes its world premiere at Orange County’s Segerstrom Concert Hall on Sunday, October 4th.

If you guessed that I wrote a piece about hummingbirds, you’d be right. My submission is featured on the OC in Unison project website, alongside a photograph of Hope. Want to see an excerpt? Click and scroll to the second story from the top.)

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Hope, that thing with feathers, is carrying music on her wings.

Want to know more about Hope and ‘my’ backyard hummingbird brood? Click here.

The red, red robin comes bob bob bobbin’ along

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American Robin

At the confluence of serendipity & symbolism sits this red-breasted beauty. He appeared in my backyard for the first time yesterday, a dandelion wish finally realized.

I’d search the skies above our new home for more than a year, believed beyond reason that our backyard would one day be graced by a robin’s cheerful song. And just before sunset, without advance warning or fanfare, hope perched its chubby self on my back fence.

He foraged in my flowerbed, splashed in the birdbath, and surveyed the hillside beyond our fence before flying home to his own nest. I’m hoping he’ll return, but even if he doesn’t, I’m over-the-moon happy about this visit.

 

Blog title courtesy of Dean Martin.