327 :: The Nest


We have just set out on a morning walk, and we’re walking up a snow-covered hill, in the woods behind our house. Ellen is complaining about walking in snow pants. “It’s SO HARD to walk in snow pants!” She is right behind me, dragging her feet in big boots. Her mood begins to creep around me like a fog.

Then, suddenly, she calls out in a completely different tone of voice. “I found a nest! A nest and it still has an egg in it!” She is elated.

This little nest. It turns our walk around. It transforms our morning. What is it about a nest? So intricate. So imperfectly perfect. We wonder about the birds who built it and nestled in it. Were there other eggs? Did they hatch? We look up into the trees. We notice pine needles in the nest and wonder if it came from the white pine tree above us?

The nest fits in the palm of Ellen’s hand. The egg is just a bit bigger than her thumbnail. She and Amabel take turns carrying it carefully, all the way home.

All day long, I think about this nest. It seems to call out to me, from its place on the nature shelf, surrounded by petoskey stones, feathers, and chestnuts. I hold it in my hands. It is so light. It is made of such beautifully simple materials. And it is enough. Enough to be a home for new life.


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