Usually every spring we hear the wrens. They come, build their nests in the various birdhouses we have, and also in the most unlikely places in our garage. Then, we listen to the chirps of the baby wrens, witness the feeding, weaning, and the learning how to fly. After they leave, we have a short quiet spell, then the wrens build a second nest. But not so this year. We never got wrens this year. Some friends tell us the late winter was one reason. Others say it was the odd spring. Several say it’s because of climate change. They told us the birds would come, but they would be late. But, the wrens didn’t come or if they did, not one graced our home. Yet, here in August, the other evening while on our deck, I heard a familiar chirp in a nearby tree. It was a wren. It was alone. It was the only wren we’ve seen this season. I really would like to know why we didn’t get wrens.
The other day, I went on a mini-trip to see a play in a historic building. The play was “Lend Me a Tenor” and it was performed in the Tibbits Opera House in Michigan. It was well cast, well performed, and well attended. Our seats were in the center with a good view of the stage. A group of elderly citizens in a tour group was seated in front of us with a bit of their overflow in our row. The gentleman from the tour group seated next to us turned out to be the uncle of one of our former employees. What a coincidence. We got to talking and discovered the gentleman was 97 years old, dapper, and delightful. I really would like to know how we were so lucky.
Heading home from our trip, we decided to meander through the countryside, and explore “the road not taken.” Spread before us were beautiful fields, barns, horses, swamps, forests, and ever so often, a lone but determined bicyclist. It was Americana at its best. I felt renewed seeing such lush scenery. How could it be, I wondered, that amidst the current theater of the absurd where everyone seems to have their hair on fire, why more people, the media included, have not shared news about this wonderful country. In an odd way, however, maybe it’s a good thing it hasn’t been shared with the firebrands. I would like to know.
Driving home a deer jumped out at the car. I missed it, but it made me reconsider my feelings about deer. They are pretty, but there are too many of them. To quote a recent article [WSJ-July 29-30, 2023-Michelle Slatalla] “In the past century the deer population has exploded up from 500,000 white-tailed deer in the early 1900s to 15 million today.” The reason for this is their natural predator is the mountain lion. I really don’t want to know about mountain lions.
There was a little plaque in my parents’ home with Elizabeth Cheney’s verse that read like this: “Said the Robin to the Sparrow, ‘I should really like to know, / Why these anxious human beings, /Rush about and worry so.’ /Said the Sparrow to the Robin, ‘Friend, I think that it must be, / That they have no Heavenly Father/ Such as cares for you and me.’” The plaque had a drawing of the robin and the sparrow. As a child, I liked thinking about the sparrow’s point of view. I still do.
The other day, I went on a mini-trip to see a play in a historic building. The play was “Lend Me a Tenor” and it was performed in the Tibbits Opera House in Michigan. It was well cast, well performed, and well attended. Our seats were in the center with a good view of the stage. A group of elderly citizens in a tour group was seated in front of us with a bit of their overflow in our row. The gentleman from the tour group seated next to us turned out to be the uncle of one of our former employees. What a coincidence. We got to talking and discovered the gentleman was 97 years old, dapper, and delightful. I really would like to know how we were so lucky.
Heading home from our trip, we decided to meander through the countryside, and explore “the road not taken.” Spread before us were beautiful fields, barns, horses, swamps, forests, and ever so often, a lone but determined bicyclist. It was Americana at its best. I felt renewed seeing such lush scenery. How could it be, I wondered, that amidst the current theater of the absurd where everyone seems to have their hair on fire, why more people, the media included, have not shared news about this wonderful country. In an odd way, however, maybe it’s a good thing it hasn’t been shared with the firebrands. I would like to know.
Driving home a deer jumped out at the car. I missed it, but it made me reconsider my feelings about deer. They are pretty, but there are too many of them. To quote a recent article [WSJ-July 29-30, 2023-Michelle Slatalla] “In the past century the deer population has exploded up from 500,000 white-tailed deer in the early 1900s to 15 million today.” The reason for this is their natural predator is the mountain lion. I really don’t want to know about mountain lions.
There was a little plaque in my parents’ home with Elizabeth Cheney’s verse that read like this: “Said the Robin to the Sparrow, ‘I should really like to know, / Why these anxious human beings, /Rush about and worry so.’ /Said the Sparrow to the Robin, ‘Friend, I think that it must be, / That they have no Heavenly Father/ Such as cares for you and me.’” The plaque had a drawing of the robin and the sparrow. As a child, I liked thinking about the sparrow’s point of view. I still do.
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