A Bird's Sturdy Nest

I've been seriously slacking the blog department. I had every intention of keeping this updated when I graduated, but then life happened. :) In the meantime, I decided to share the first chapter of a new project. Let me know what you think! (Pictures from this past weekend.)

Chapter 1 – A Bird’s Sturdy Nest

I write this as I sit in my fancy new backyard swing. My purpose in purchasing the swing was to have a comfy place to curl up and read while enjoying nature at the same time. It’s equipped with two tables, outdoor-grade cushions, and a shade. Needless to say, there is less reading and more observation of the little ecosystem around me. It’s nearly impossible for us naturalists to ignore nature and all the lessons that its careful observation share with us. We currently live in Arizona, home to hot, dry weather, endless sunny days, distinct flora and fauna, and occasional monsoons. It was our first summer monsoon last night that prompted me to write this book. I will attempt to put into words those things that touch me so deeply. I hope that I can convey how wonderful our little planet is. I hope I can encourage you to just notice the world around you. There is so much to learn from the natural world.

Last night’s rain, thunder, and lightning brought all the birds out to play this early May morning. The flowers seem especially happy and it’s a quiet, cool Monday in my Mesa, Arizona home. I sat in my fancy backyard swing with the full intention of beginning my aromatherapy homework. As fascinating as essential oils, holistic healing, and Hippocrates are, they just can’t compete with the calming meditative state that comes with watching a bird fly back and forth between my yard and a neighbor’s tree. Each trip, she carried back only one blade of dried grass or small stick for her nest. Back and forth, back and forth, all morning; building against a backdrop of blue and last night’s storm clouds drifting away. She didn’t enlist other birds to help, she didn’t try to carry more than what was comfortable. She didn’t rush. She patiently builds her nest as I type. 

It was then that I noticed another nest, this one in my little Elm tree. The nest has been in this tree, unused to my knowledge, for at least two years. It looks as perfect as it did last year. It has sat strong in the face of the Arizona summer heat, fierce monsoons, and haboobs. I question if a twig has fallen out of place. It makes me think to our immediate reaction to a storm, other than excitement, of course. Desert rain is a fair cause for celebration.  The merlot is known to be uncorked and enjoyed with doors open on a stormy night. Prior to the merlot, I usually rush outside to take down the shade cloth, bring in anything that could be damaged, and worry about the welfare of my garden. How will it fare in this storm? Will the sunflowers be okay? What about my seedlings? Should I protect them from this rain and wind? It should be noted that 99.9% of the time, the flora in my yard are perfectly fine. Happier, in fact – I’m unable to water them with as much skill and finesse as a May monsoon. 

Yet, here sits the little nest. As the monsoon winds push my little Elm to limits bordering horizontal, there it rests. A little bird built it, twig by twig. It wasn’t rushed. It endures. It sits now as a reminder to me of patience and as a humbling reminder that I am just a human; just one species out of so many on this magical planet. Many of the species on our planet, plants included, have been here in some form much longer than we. They have adapted perfectly. They know that extravagant isn’t always best. They know that less is often more. They know that quality is more important than quantity or speed. How often have we put these lessons to the side? How often we assume that we are superior, that nature can just be ignored, that there is nothing to learn. How very wrong we are. 

Affirmation:

“I walk through life with patience.”