Flying into Windows

Thud, thwack! The goldfinches are at it again. Maybe it's the angle of the light reflecting off our bay windows. Maybe the birds are brain addled or berry drunk. Or maybe they're just like us.

For whatever reason, our goldfinches have taken to flying into our closed windows. Their chests go thud, and their beaks and claws scrabble against the glass. I once watched one rise up above the sill triumphantly, after dozens of attempts to fly up. It paused there, then went right back to the launchpad branch. Thud, thwack, scrabble.

I've tried to hang things in the window, tape colored paper there. I've talked with them through the open window, to warn them about hurting themselves. They cock their heads and look at me, but apparently I don't speak finch.

I take them on as mirrors and teachers:

- in what ways do I repeatedly slam into windows?

- what am I trying to reach on the other side?

- am I persevering or just not learning from my mistakes?

How pitiable we all are. Or is it faithful? Without memory of failure, we launch ourselves with strong wings.

Welcome!

I'm writing out of a desire to connect with other people who root themselves and their creative lives in the natural world. I'll be sharing how contact with nature in the city and beyond sparks my art and writing and my daily life as a work of art. I invite you to share how nature supports your creative life.

- Gratitude and Blessings, Carol