Soaring and Stillness: Life with the Chickadees

The Legs and Tallulah Our nest is situated in an area where college hoops are of equal importance with the celebration of the Lenten season. We live slightly accosted with an obscene amount of big orange and folks that think the tide ebbs and flows with seed numbers... Years ago I may have been talking about how many crops were being planted, the number of acres that would be harvested, how many annuals we were hoping to start in the beds. Today, the seed implication is all about basketball rankings. Where the boys will start in the tournament. Whether it's fair or not. I don't full understand rankings and polls and how teams are judged and matched, but that final term is one that resonates loudly. FAIR. I hear it often, usually in the context of it's just not fair . Hmm, a multitude of posts could be written on that phrase, but back to the subject at hand, good ole' March Madness. While watching the late local news this evening, a young man stated that the team didn&#

It seems that here in the nest we're in perpetual motion, flitting and floating from one activity to the next. Today I've done three loads of laundry, cleaned the main floor, showered (a minor miracle), walked the pooch, ran the garbage back and forth to the curb, taught lessons for both of the girls, pretended to be nice to our persnickety neighbor , scheduled all of the appointments for the next two weeks, checked the voicemail (a major miracle) and driven to dance. As I handed Little Bit a snack and glanced up at the monitor where Miss Leggy was completing a quad turn (for those of us less versed in dance terminology that is four complete revolutions in a row ) it hit me...I'd forgotten the dance clothing I'd purchased to donate. Leotards, tights, ballet shoes, and hair accessories all sitting in neat bundles in my abyss of a closet. Gear I said I'd bring today to help with an after school inner-city dance program put together by one amazing member of our studio

(The view from our nest last July) Migration...a strange term and perhaps an even more odd pattern of flight. Imagine having a built in sensor which alerted one to the fact that she should be following an internal compass to an opposing pole. Now fathom having little control over that impulse to react. Would you really postpone an activity, join a group of like-minded individuals, and take off? If you were a migratory animal you would... just like that . Children tend to have this type of inherent desire but not the compass that guides it. They migrate toward food, sunshine, chaos, laughter, and merriment...they're migratory creatures of a different sense. As adults, I think that sometimes our sensors solicit adjustment. We need to tune in a bit more to the internal and phase out some of the required surrounding us. My chicks just respond to their radar. They see the sun and immediately ask to venture into the great outdoors. I see it and query on the need for sunscreen, hats, and

Life with the chickadees is all about flight...the rise and fall of the air under little wings. Days here entail much soaring, spinning, twirling and swooping. We crash gloriously and rarely glide when jumping from this particular perch. Following long days of adventure we seek out stillness, treasure moments, and reflect on the blessings of the day. Until these chicks are ready to launch, may this nest provide them with love, laughter, learning, and refuge.