So I told you how we've been walking to camp every day. And how we found these branches that hung over the sidewalk and formed a bit of a hideaway that we named the Secret Garden. And how there was an old bird's nest in there that we studied every single day, its oblong shape, the pieces of plastic bag that had been artistically incorporated into it. Well, about a week ago, one morning, all of a sudden, the Secret Garden was gone. The branches had been cut down. We almost didn't notice it at first, but then we suddenly got disoriented, as if we didn't know where we were on our walk because we hadn't passed our milestone. And we stood there, turning around, looking everywhere, wondering where it had actually been, where it had gone, who had cut it, why. And, of course, wondering what happened to the bird's nest.
Well, as luck would have it, as I was walking home, alone, without the kids, after dropping them off, I saw a pile of branches in a little wooded area just off the sidewalk. And I wondered, is that heap of branches the Secret Garden? And if so, is the bird's nest somewhere in there? I didn't see it. I lifted branches and kicked them over a bit as traffic whizzed past me. No bird's nest. I dug deeper, turning the pile this way and that, until, yes, yes, there it was. The bird's nest. Looking wet and weathered and worse for the wear, for a weekend had passed and it had rained and the poor little thing was crushed under the weight of the world.
I cupped the bird's nest in my hand and walked the mile home in the rapidly growing heat of an Atlanta morning. And when camp was over, and kids once more ran through my garden, I told them I had a surprise for them and then revealed from behind my back the treasure I had uncovered that morning.
If you could have seen their faces! The Rosetta Stone could not have elicited more joy and wonder. They each, all of them, reached forward a finger and touched the strip of plastic bag that defined this bird's nest, that made it clear to them that it was truly the same one.
And now, we don't really know what to do with the bird's nest. Or have we already done it, by simply noticing it, valuing it, honoring it? I'm thinking yes.
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1 comments:
I remember "playing a game" with some small children.
We would cup our hands and pretend we had a small bird to care for.We would talk to it show it the garden.
Then our birds would fly away and other games would be played.
Suddenly someone would stop still.
Little faces filled with excitement and joy, their birds had returned.
Happy faces in a garden.
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