A Morning At My Window

I've been up since about 4:45 this morning; I don't know why I'm always waking up just before everyone's alarm clocks start going off. It's like I'm a masochist or something. Let's shorten a perfectly good night's sleep even more! Woo-hoo!

Well, instead of fighting it this morning I got up, read a little, surprised the heck out of SM and Sophie when they got up, had a bagel and some juice, and settled down by my bedroom's alcove window to watch Sophie go to her bus stop.

It's been raining through the night. Not a long, hard slog, no giant storms...just a few minutes of rain here and there that make you wonder, "Is that it? Any more coming?" So when I looked out the window this morning everything was soft, wet, and green. It was like that on my wedding day. If you can imagine such a thing, it was a beautiful rain that day. When we left the reception the rain was coming down so gently and prettily, and I don't think I've ever seen green look more green in my life. Birds looked silver in the sky and the clouds were like something Rembrandt might have painted. It was impossibly beautiful. That's the way it is this morning.

I've mentioned before that there are two trees just outside my window: a dogwood and something as yet unidentified, but bigger than the dogwood. Also, there are two robins that, I am convinced, have a nest somewhere in our yard, but I can't find it yet. As I settled in my chair and looked out the window to see what the morning looked like, I saw the robins, hard at it, pecking at the yard. Actually, there were birds all over the place, but the little sparrows and wrens blend in so beautifully with our dead grass that you can't see them until they move. Our lawn looks like living art, it's moving in little hops and short flights.

It started raining again for a few minutes; most of the birds flew for shelter in our two trees, which have such leafy canopies that surely any bird hiding in there will stay bone-dry. But the robins never slowed down and never flew for cover. They kept pecking and scratching, holding their heads to one side as though listening for noisy worms to announce their presence. A little rain won't stop them.

They keep flying back to that one spot in the dogwood but every day I look, and there's nothing there.

We've been hard at work lately, trying to improve the house and yard. We discovered our property has an irrigation system and we tested it last night (just in time for the rain). We've chiseled tile off a kitchen table, put up wallpaper borders, installed curtain rods, painted, and a host of other back-breaking tasks. We kind of miss renting right about now. But the house is coming together and getting a look, if you know what I mean, even if it is wearing us out. So yesterday when SM and I heard that a rainstorm was forecasted that afternoon, we thankfully sank into our Sunday naps, because nothing is better than a stormy Sunday afternoon nap. I mean nothing. Unless, of course, it's a stormy Sunday afternoon nap under a metal roof. That's the ultimate. The rain brought some peace to the house. The drumming on the roof seemed to drug us, kind of like those jails that are painted pink so the inmates calm down. Our sleep last night was deep, hard, and peaceful. So you understand now the state of mind I was in this morning when I looked out on my front yard, wet and green and alive with busy, chirping birds. I watched Sophie walk to the end of the driveway, wearing her turquoise raincoat and holding her umbrella, and she turned around, waved, and blew me a kiss before looking both ways and crossing the road. That's our morning ritual. I waved back, blew a kiss, and settled in the chair to watch the morning wake up.

Now I know why I haven't found the robins' nest yet. They're still building it. Something large and white just fluttered to the ground under the dogwood, and one of the robins just swooped down after it, picked it up in its beak, and flew back to the same spot in the tree as before. I watch for a moment, and down it flutters again, robin in hot pursuit. Four times that white something falls, and four times it is retrieved by a robin and stuffed in the same spot in the tree. It must be a really important part of the nest for them to feel that strongly about it. I looked up in there the other day and saw our guinea pigs' bedding all over the tree. We don't just throw the stuff in the back yard when we clean the cage, but we do hose down the cage out there, and some bits and pieces of bedding have obviously landed in the yard and been found by these robins. Now the bedding decorates our dogwood. I don't know whether or not they have finalized on a decision about it, though. It's like when we come home from Lowe's and tape paint chips all over a wall, trying to decide which color works best. That's what they've done to the dogwood: hung various nesting materials everywhere, possibly in an effort to rate them and make the most informed choice. Smart birds, these robins. Messy, but smart.

I swear I can smell my lawn. The smell of rain coupled with the smell of clean dirt and opening flowers. The humid air easily carries the sounds of flapping birds' wings as they sail past my window. One branch is less than 10 feet from me, and if I sit still and make no sound, birds sit up in there all the time, doing whatever it is birds do, completely unaware of me. I feel like I'm looking through a periscope onto what the Garden of Eden must have looked like (except for the dying grass). It's just so precious and peaceful and I feel privileged.

I know I'm rambling but it's magical to me and I wanted to share it with you.