Any nest in a storm?

I don't want to name names, but someone in this household is afraid of thunder. It makes her very nervous. She seeks security and reassurance with lots of petting and snuggling. This didn't used to be an issue. It's not clear what happened to turn a blondish, yellow lab cross-breed into a scaredy cat. (Ssshhh, don't tell her I said wrote that!) She thought that maybe an early breakfast at 2:30ish am followed by a walk might help her settle down. We had a break in the rain so we tried that. It worked for awhile, until the next round of lightning and thunder rolled through. I am not responsible of any typos that may pop up in today's posting. I thought I'd foregone sleep deprivation when the youngest child started school those many years ago. I was overly optimistic (me? 😉).

what makes you think I'm afraid of a little thunder?

Photo by J. Harrington

At least we didn't get the five inches or so that flooded several counties South of us, but the "wet spot" in the back yard is once again showing water. It had shrunk to a layer of mud during the past few weeks. The low spot in the driveway is once again a puddle. Birds frequently use it to take a bath. I suspect, from the news and weather reports this morning, the trout streams we were planning on fishing thus week may not be in prime condition, so we'll save them for another time.

a bluebird egg in an abandoned nest

Photo by J. Harrington

Before the storms arrive last night, I saw what I think was a bluebird perched on top of the reinstalled bluebird house. It may be that the plan to provide a potential home for a second brood this Summer might pay off. Once before we managed a picture of a bluebird egg that had failed to hatch, so we have a decent idea of what bluebird eggs look like. I'll slog out this afternoon and report back tomorrow if the hordes of deer flies don't grab me and drag me off into the woods.

We hope you remain warm, dry, and virus-free and that your house isn't in one of the recently identified flood-prone areas that our new, more volatile weather patterns are helping us discover.

Egg

By Brian Swann

We are in the position of defining myth by the shape of its absence.
-Sean Kane, Wisdom of the Mythtellers

The bluebird's cold mistimed egg

fetched up from the one-legged

box after the pair had left for

points south & unknown (never,

as it turned out, to return) I

renested in the half-geode by

the windowsill where it gleamed

&, months becoming years, seemed

about to last forever, grow more

consistent with itself, holding its pure

blue firmament up over what by now

was nothing, till one January day, snow

melting to a fast flood,

I blew it softly onto my palm so I could

hold its cerulean up against new sky,

home against home, where it lay

weightless & delicate as the Xmas ornament

we'd just put away, but when I went

to roll it gently back onto its bed,

& leave it there, I saw a thread,

a crack, another, watched it sink in

slowly on itself, shard on shard collapsing

from my touch & breath, relaxing

into the shape of its absence

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