Kingbird
A year - a full three hundred and sixty five days. That’s how long it takes me to feel settled in a new place, a new routine. I’m like some fussy plant that needs to know what the light looks like in every season before she’ll commit to sending out those first tender roots, beginning the process of anchoring herself into new soil.
In some ways, I blame the luxury of getting to spend seventeen years (of the nearly twenty one years I lived at home) in the same house. Establishing new ways of moving through my little world just wasn’t something I practiced as a kid - I grew up knowing every creak in the floor and the location of every cabinet handle. Home was constant.
But since moving out, Eric and I have shared seven homes and I’ve learned that this uncomfortable beginning is part of my adjustment process. Just waiting. Watching from new windows as the sun makes a full lap. And then, miraculously, I can settle.
Interestingly, in this newest house, the adjustment took a couple extra months - probably because of the horses. Sure, things changed when we moved here in February but it was the horses arriving at the end of May that felt like the biggest shock to my system. So I guess I wasn’t too surprised when, at the start of this year, I was still moving through my life like so much was up in the air. It was only in the last few days of last month (and the first few days of this) that I realized I was feeling like I’d finally arrived. We’re here. Now I can begin to really enjoy it.
This plot still has plenty to share, though, even after a year - and I’m always delighted when something new surprises me.
This morning, at seven exactly, we took the dogs out for their morning walk and caught sight of a pair of birds - black with white bellies and strip of white along the bottom of the tail feathers (as though they’d carefully, perfectly been dipped in paint). They were BEAUTIFUL - whirling and diving and flitting to the the topmost branches of the poplars down by the irrigation ditch in turns. We got as close as they’d let us, trying to keep ourselves and our long shadows small, and when they finally flew up and away into the bright sky I was sure I’d have enough details stored in my mind to identify them.
And later, back in the house, I did!
The two mystery birds of the morning were Eastern Kingbirds, and it looks like we live right on the edge of their common breeding grounds (perhaps explaining why I’d never seen one before!). How delightful to put a name to the face - if we’re lucky, this won’t be the last time these beauties stop by for a visit.
