Here are just a few:
1. The Merlin’s eerie, high-pitched qwueek, qwueeek, qwueEK, qwueEEK, qwUEEEK that beckons my eyes upward, where I see her caped wings carve slow circles across the sky.
2. A father’s hands placing a yellow ball on new green grass in front of his tottering son, and then clapping exuberantly when his son’s foot nicks the ball and moves it forward an inch or two.
3. The chortling and clucking bubbling out of the hen house each morning as I walk across the grass singing, “Good morning, good morning, good morning to you,” to my chickens, Penelope and Nimbus.
4. The fissures around an old woman’s eyes that crinkle into well-worn smile lines when her middle-aged son whispers something in her ear while he holds her hand. The two of them, sitting across from me in the emergency room, as I hold my mother’s hand, twisted and bent from arthritis. The knowledge that the man and I are exactly where we should be.
5. A Pygmy nuthatch walking straight down a pine tree, ignoring my presence, striking its sharp black beak into the bark again and again, before sidling sideways to find a new place to hammer for bugs. The sight of this bird, whose family I have heard all winter long conversing high in the pine trees--phhhtttt, phhhtttt, phhhttttt-- hanging upside down right in front of me. The thought that the nuthatches are leaving their winter havens to mate, build nests, and raise families, continuing the cycle that creates new life.
Photo by anish lakkapragada on Unsplash
6. The kaleidoscope of color created by the crocuses, Oregon grape, and Arrowleaf balsamroot as they awaken from their winter slumber. These plants’ resilience in the face of a changing climate and assault of pollutants. The belief their new blooms provide me, that maybe, just maybe, they will survive the Anthropocene era.
7. High school tennis players grabbing their racquets and running back to the courts to cavort with their friends while waiting for the bus to pick them up. Their enthusiasm to play after an away match where they lost almost every game. The sound of the calls: “I got it”, “yours”, “good job”, “go, go, go”, while dancing and racquet high-fiving after each point.
8. The bright orange beaks on long straight necks, which lead the wings, as long as I am tall, of three blue herons flying directly above me at my neighborhood park. Their guttural bellows--WUUUUK, WUUUUK, WUUUUK--sounding like tubas played by a middle school band: loud, without melody. Noise--just for the fun of it.
9. A mother crouched down next to her toddling daughter, who points with mismatched gloves at ducks on a pond. The quacking from the little girl, joined by quacking from her mother, harmonizing with the quacking of the ducks.
10. The wonder that surrounds me, much of which I am seeing and hearing for the first time. Gifts given to me by new hobbies—birding and writing. Activities that require me to slow down, pay attention, and notice what is happening. Gifts I have given myself by following my heart.
Crescent City, California…A wonderful stopping point after a December vacation with family in the Redwoods to take an icy dip.
