Distinct early morning chirping, and the determination of one rosy breasted Robin has informed me that the relocation nest was not the desired real estate location for this Mother.
She has decided that the bright yellow forsythia wreath which adorns my front porch was a more suitable location. I can’t exactly blame her, it is a very inviting location. It’s under the shelter of the roof, and it’s cheery and inviting… however.. I do need to venture out there upon occasion so this may be considered a high traffic area.
I press my face to the glass in a attempt to see if I can see any sight of feathers, before I cautiously open the door. I stay low so as to not frighten the “red Red Robin that goes bob bob bobbing along.”
Attempting to photograph the newest dwelling I nearly fell in my front door, because I didn’t shut it before leaning on it, and reaching my arms high above the nest with the best hopes of catching sight of some “ robin’s egg blue eggs” of course, I could have taken a header, but caught myself at the last moment. I think I caught a glimmer…..
As I peer out my side window to see if the Mamma is warming her perspective progeny , I cautiously open the front door, so as to give her ample warning to fly to the nearby pine 🌲 tree to glare at me from a safe distant.
Being a Mamma Bird myself, I get it. The goal is to make a comfortable, insulated and cozy nest for your children. There is a deep and instinctual need to protect those that we love, to shelter, and offer them love and food, and care.. When our people become sick, or get hurt, this need intensifies..and we want to help, and be part of the healing process.
Mum needed surgery this past week for a fracture in her hip. There wasn’t a question of if, it was a necessary choice to have her receive a partial hip replacement. It especially caused extra concern because she had just undergone surgery under general anesthesia 6 weeks ago. This is no small undergoing for a younger person, not to mention an 82 year old woman… she won’t like me exposing her true age, so I’ll appropriately deny it, when questioned.. plausible deniability perhaps?.. am I stretching..it’s possible?
The surgery took place on Wednesday April 29th. It’s a few days afterwards, and Mum, so they tell me…..is doing ok.
I, and my family, must take their word for it, because we were not allowed to be with her, or accompany her during this time, because of the coved pandemic.
This is a surreal experience, because it is unnatural to not sit alongside others lounging uncomfortably, drinking bad coffee, and munching on stale donuts, and Cheetos .. oh wait.. maybe that would just be me? I did not want to indicate that others would not have thought ahead, and brought healthy type snacks, water, and the like.
On other such occasions we would wait… pray…nap… pace…but we would be inside the hospital, not in our perspective homes with a barricaded and odd sensation that this was so abnormal. I sit by the phone waiting, and learning that the shift change happens at 7am in the hospital. The new nurses make rounds taking vitals, then it seems like 9-9:30am is a good time to call, and inquire about the previous evenings’ happenings, and the am status of Mum.
I check in with the doctors, and nurses, involved with her care, and upon occasion I have had the chance to speak with her. Her voice is slightly croaky, very soft, and seems a far off. I have a photo of her from after her last surgery, so that’s the visual I have in my mind.
She is quite bright here, after her surgery, and was comfortably numb in all the right places. I helped her with her supper, kissed her goodnight, and departed from the hospital, which was on March 14. This was the last time I have seen her, or any of her children, or grandchildren too.
There have been previous face time calls which Barbara, Mum’s caregiver have helped facilitate. The last call was on this past Monday, April 27th. I was seeking to entertain her and elicit some smiles, and I will go to great lengths to do this ..
Humour is helpful in every situation. It lightens the sorrow, and distracts the mind from pain, and present circumstances.
“Laughter is the best medicine”
I pray at this time, while in hospital, she has a sense of peace, and knows that she is loved, and can rest in the embrace of God, knowing she is being cared for, and attended to… and that somehow she isn’t alone in spirit. This comforts me to trust in this…It is far beyond my control, and truthfully it never was anyways.
Many others have had to say farewell from a distance as their loved ones have died without them being able to keep vigil…or even touch them, embrace them, kiss them… breathe them deep…anything..this is so brutal .. I can’t even imagine .. such sorrow …..something people never even considered would become their reality.
I count it such a privilege to call in and hear her voice say a few words, even if I can’t make sense of them.. they are something… a voice carries such innate power from our loved ones..
Listening to “ Smile” by Madeline Peyroux…is a melancholy tune for a weekend..but envelops the spirit of the mood of today.
There is raking of leaves🍁 to be 🍂done, and the yard to be tidied up. The scent of freshly dampened earth is pungent, and wholesome, and begs to grow new life.
All around there are signs of blooming, and is it just me, but here where I live, the anticipation of big garbage day on Monday becomes a contest of how many yard bags I can fill with debris from leaves, to twigs, and random litter ? I’m having a race with myself.
The deck on the back of my house is non existent at present, so we ( Brooke and I,) dragged the picnic table over to the door for an impromptu “ redneck” back step, so that I don’t have to hoist myself up in a most unlady like manner climbing up and into my back door. I felt as though I was scaling the Great Wall of China, instead of just getting up and in the house .
Brooke found that we can use the seats of the picnic table as loungers for catching some much needed vitamin D infusion afternoon therapy…
Who knew a picnic table could offer such a variety of uses..
My Mum used to love to garden, and her yard was gorgeous with flowers, trees, and shrubs, and a lawn that was meticulously cared for. She took great pride in it, and had such knowledge about flowers, and growing things. She did have a green thumb, and had a keen interest in horticulture, and landscape architecture.
The provision of vibrant color, mixed with multiple shades of greens, against a blue sky to accent the scene, is almost too much for the senses to endure.
2 thoughts on “It’s all about the birds….”
I have very similar bird nest. I will try to get a picture tomorrow to send you. Momma is sitting securely on the nest right now. Praying for your dear mother. Love to you both, Lisette
It’s been so fun to watch her process of caring for her eggs.. As she flies away, and back carefully guarding and keeping them warm.. very tender.. thank you for your thoughts😍