Up on Hawthorn Hill
Wondering where have all the bluebirds gone
Ever since we moved into our house on the hill, there have been recurring natural patterns that have enriched our lives. One of those is the annual return of at least one pair of bluebirds.
Some summers we have been lucky enough to share the place with two nesting pairs. If my notes are accurate (trusting notes more than memory these days!) normal bluebird behavior is to hang out here for a few days upon arrival, check the place out, scope out available real estate, grab a few meals and then disappear for a week or so before returning to set up shop. Last spring, a lone male appeared, perched atop a locust fence post not far from two available boxes, helped himself to the local fare for several days and then flew off, never to return again.
When it became all too clear to me that we were to be forsaken once again, my spirits plummeted. Truth is, I start thinking about their return once the snows ebb and warmer weather enables me to sit on our deck in a semi-meditative state to watch and wait.
Their annual return has for me what Wordsworth characterized as a “renovating virtue.” The first sighting always enlivens my spirit. It revives me. It reassures me that nature’s enduring patterns are intact and that all is right with the world.
In these disturbing times, any spiritual buoyancy that one can feel is well worth the wait.
