The morning in my back yard was blessed, flooded with sunlight that put an emphasis on every shade of green, red, yellow, blue, every imaginable back yard color. Even my old shed, built from worn cedar about a decade ago, looked handsome and not at all worn down.
The birds were remarkable. All summer long, house wrens have been chirping their songs while they collected beaks- full of pine needles to cram into whatever place they could find to build a home. Diligent little birds with a perky demeanor and a song that sounds as though it just spilled right out of them, house wrens are a delight to watch. So persistent and in some cases, clumsy with their loads of pine needles.
It has all paid off. Sometimes they put three eggs in those houses and if you are lucky, all of them hatch and here, on July 4th morning, were the parents teaching the babies how to fly. You would be sitting there sipping your coffee and a bunch would come sweeping down to sit and sing in the lilac bushes.
It sends a message of renewal to me, I believe, that works well when you apply it to this troubled nation at this moment. I know quite well that some of those wrens are doomed from day one, but they persist, in the face of hungry cats, aggressive sparrows, even Coopers Hawks, which grab them and snack on them like appetizers. Still, they persist. The house will be built.
They will thrive and sing again.
And so will we. That’s something to remember in this dark moment with its troubling president violating all rules of common sense and exposing the people who love him to a potentially fatal illness. He will be a smudge on the record before long.
Then we can move on, fill our faces full of pine needles, build our new nests and teach our children to fly.
Happy Fourth of July. We on our way to the same unreachable idea we have always been on our way to. The important thing is to keep on the way! Black lives matter.