Birdhouse Tilt



The birdhouse my dad built many years ago took a beating over the last New England winter season of high winds and snow storms. This old wooden house sits very high on a spindly scrub pine. The nails and screws must have rusted in the worn wood, it was no longer completely anchored on the tree, now tilting on an angle. There it hung, lopsided. I’ll figure out how to climb up and repair it in spring, I thought. Then today, while getting out of my car, I just happen to look up in that direction. Miraculously, the birdhouse was still there, but looked like it was hanging by a thread. The opening didn’t look like a dark hole anymore, it was blocked. I took a few steps closer and realized some bird had built a nest. It didn’t matter that it was hanging sideways. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t secure, they built a nest anyway.


A sign from Mother Nature, I thought, symbolic of the chaos of the past two years that shifted the foundation of our lives, of our homes. Like that birdhouse it sometimes felt like life was hanging by a thread, sometimes it was. But somehow, we’ve endured, adapted and emerged stronger than we ever knew we could be. We were resilient.


We have just begun the season of spring, of new beginnings. Mother Nature is always speaking to us, our job is to pay attention. Today, no doubt, her message is clear; come what may, life continues and wherever we build our nest is home.

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