nest

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.

We can all go on

As long as the hummingbirds had not abandoned the land, somewhere there were still flowers, and they could all go on. -Leslie Marmon Silko

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Welcome to the world, little hummingbird hatchlings!

Aren’t they cute? Well, okay, they’re in that awkward state…bumbling and naked and temporarily blind. But if you close your eyes and think hummingbird, can you visualize the possibilities?

Given their wrinkled, raisin-y state, I suspect the first egg hatched on Friday and the second hatchling followed suit on Saturday.  Just think: As these tiny creatures performed their quiet bit of magic, the Women’s March was unfolding on a very grand scale!

If my math calculations are correct, and the magic holds, these hatchlings will become iridescent-feathered, gossamer-winged fledglings by Valentine’s Day.

Speaking of which: I’ve named them after my dear friend Carl and his wife Mary– lovebirds who were married for 58 wonderful years before she passed. Hummingbird images appear in several cultural traditions–symbols of devotion and joy, the stitching together of heaven and earth–so this seems to me a wonderful way to commemorate their enduring relationship and eternal love.

P.S. Rest assured, I use my zoom lens to gather these snapshots. I would never touch the hummingbirds or their nest! I observe and record them from a respectful distance…

Hummingbird Nest Jan 2017

No way would I want to interrupt this magic show!

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On the wings of morning: expressions of grief, solidarity, and sanctity

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The Robin is the One
That speechless from her Nest
Submit that Home — and Certainty
And Sanctity, are best. —Emily Dickinson

Three explosions ripped through Brussels earlier this morning, killing at least 34 innocent people and injuring 134. In the aftermath of this terrorist attack, people are linking arms with Belgium via social media.

To their voices, I add my whispered prayers:  Peace among nations, peace in our homes, peace in our hearts.

And I hear the quiet echo of my grandmother’s voice, a comfort to me on this shrouded morning. “In the darkest nights of winter,” my Nana always said, “watch the skies and listen for the robins.”

Violence cast a pall over this second day of Spring. The robin’s song is muted by grief. And still–because of, and despite the horrors of this moment–I carry within my heart an anthem: Cheer cheer, cheerily, cheer up, cheer up…change is gonna come.