Birds Inc.

I hate to tell you that the bird drama is continuing around here.  But it is. 

The saga of the birds has now moved to the front porch.  Yesterday, whilst watering the hanging flower baskets on my front porch, I discovered a bird nest in one of them.  "No wonder this basket's not looking too hot," I thought to myself.  I looked in the nest: no eggs, no birds.  I decided that the birds must have moved on.  I removed the nest and discarded it in the alley where it was promptly smashed by passing cars.

This morning I awake to find a dove sitting in said hanging basket.  I thought, "silly bird, you can't live here anymore.  I took your nest.  These are no longer suitable lodgings."  When the dove was spooked by a passing car I peeked in the basket to see what damage was done, and behold, there was an egg.  Now I know that egg was not there yesterday.  This dove laid that egg this morning.

Now I'm filled with extreme remorse.  Can you imagine what I've done?!?!  I threw out this mama's nest!  She worked tirelessly to get a cozy space ready to birth her babies, came back to the nest this morning in the midst of birthing pangs, only to discover that her work had been destroyed!  And now, there was no time for her to even gather the resources to build a new one.  The baby was coming and the inn had been torn down.  I am a horrible monster. 

And what do I do about my flowers that are in that basket?  Do I just let her sit all over them and destroy them?  Will I be able to water them?  Will she and her babies be pooping on them?  I read that the gestation period is about 14 days.  How long will they be living there after they hatch?  What if they don't hatch and I've sacrificed my plants for nothing?  Are these residents permanent - will they be returning each year?

Clearly I cannot evict a mother and her babies.  That would be cruel beyond belief.  I guess I'll just be tip-toeing around the front porch for awhile awaiting the new arrivals - and for the magic of nature to unfold.

Last Lesson

It was a beautiful day for our last piano lesson, Nadia and I.  The sun was shining, the windows open: it was as if the heavens were blessing this last meeting between the two of us.

Nadia came to me as a young girl, she must have been in the fourth or fifth grade.  I had taught her older sister some years before and I was aware that their mother had passed away from cancer recently.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  Would she be fragile and shy, would I need to handle her with kid gloves?  But she came with enthusiasm for learning the piano and an outgoing, sweet, and funny personality.  And we had so many good times together as I watched her develop into a wonderful pianist and a delightful young woman.

I knew today was coming.  This wasn't one of those times where it hits me like a punch in the gut.  She graduated from highschool this spring, and this is an inevitable ending - sad though it may be.  But she gave me the beautiful gift of seeing this thing - piano lessons - through to the end.  It wasn't always easy.  There were plenty of weeks she struggled with practice or didn't make it to a lesson.  We shared the disappointments of poor performances and slow progress at times.  But we also marveled at her increasing ability, her love of music, and those times when her performances just shined.  I loved how inquisitive she is, about music and life.  We laughed A LOT in our lessons.  She also gave me one of those moments that makes me so thrilled to be a piano teacher this spring: she played me a song she had composed.  And it was enchanting - a sweet, beautiful piece of music. 

But on this gorgeous June day, at Nadia's last lesson, we also had the chance to sit and talk to each other - something that normally just can't happen in a half hour lesson.  I wanted to encourage her to continue playing, and to know what she had planned next.  And with the lesson done, we could sit and talk like two friends, without the barrier of the teacher student dynamic - another great gift to me.  She doesn't know what is in store for her next.  And in so many ways neither do I.  I love teaching piano and I know I'm going to continue to do it.  But I also have this feeling that there is something else too.  I just don't know what.  We both had a sense that we are waiting to see what God has in store for us - as if we are both sonatas waiting for the composer to finish the next movement.

Nadia has probably taught me as much as I've taught her, as do most of my students.  I can't wait to see where she goes in life.  This was a good ending, both sad and happy.  As she rose from the piano bench to leave we hugged.  Then we hugged again.  The two of us - unfinished compositions that we are.