Nest.

Imagine being able to fly. Haven’t you always wanted wings? I have. It was my biggest wish as a child: To be able to feel the updrafts and downdrafts and stop for a rest on the tips of tall trees. I used to think that if I could pick an animal totem, it would be a bird, something free and small and capable of beautiful song.

I have always had a longing for a bird’s life of migration and easy travel. And a nest to always come home to.

We had a powerful wind storm a few weeks ago. It seemed to arrive out of the blue, without many of the typical storm elements–no crazy downpour, no thunder or lightning, just gusts of strong wind that went on for a few days.

We woke one morning to a fallen tree across our driveway. Our neighbor called to ask if we’d like help cutting it up or moving it. We trudged up the hill and inspected it, and Brian spent the better part of an afternoon cutting it into rounds and clearing our driveway.

He also found this beautiful treasure that had fallen out of the tree. I was sad that some sweet, busy bird had put all this work into weaving its home, only to lose it. But I was grateful that it was too early in the year for baby birds to be in there, too.

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Isn’t it incredible what one small beak can carry? Isn’t this one of the most beautiful, intricate things you’ve ever seen? It is thick and sturdy, full of finely woven twigs and grasses, mosses and sticks, small leaves and lichen. It is the perfect little spot for a bird to nestle in and protect tiny eggs, and it’s just tall enough that baby birds will have shelter from the elements as they grow their wings–and prepare to fly away.

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