My toddler and I have been monitoring the robin eggs in a nest on our back porch light for the last couple of weeks. We can’t see in but I could hold my phone up over my head and get a photo. The eggs hatched Apr 29th or 30th. The last time we checked, Monday, this nest held four little fledgling robins. Today the nest is empty. No mama bird in sight to yell at us. I don’t think the babies possibly could have been grown enough to fly away. Husband and I searched the tall grass next to the deck but didn’t see any indication the birds had leapt out. No carnage around the nest or the deck gives me hope they weren’t devoured. We told toddler that the birds moved to a new home. I hope that’s true but it seems unlikely. I suppose this has nothing to do with Covid, although I wouldn’t be surprised if this whole drama would have gone unnoticed if we’d been in our busy old lives…
May 7, 2021
Again I find myself in the solitude of the farm and wondering. I love the light at sunset this time year and in the craziness leading up to the election it seemed especially peaceful to be an observer at this moment. A cow with no worries gently grazing as the last gasp of sunshine fades. The cloudy gray sky hints at the weather change coming, as it will despite the spike in the number of cases, despite our wanting it to be over, despite wanting an effective cure, despite wanting an effective vaccine, despite wanting to be able to hug friends and family again, despite wondering if this trip to the grocery store will prove fatal, despite wondering if conspiracy theories could be true, despite wondering if someone I care about may succumb, despite not being ready for snow and cold, despite trying to figure out where the summer went and why autumn flew by...despite wondering why this year is so not what I expected it to be... and yet, there is a stillness, and a beauty, and a sense of calm, and a feeling of serenity as I lean on the fence and watch the shadows lengthen.
November 4, 2020