While I have been thinking robins, I recalled a
poem I used to read to my children from a book of nursery rhymes. On a page
near the back of the tattered yellow book, I’d read in a shivery, blustery
tone:
The north wind doth blow,
And we shall have snow,
And what will the robin do then?
Poor thing!
He’ll sit in a barn,
To keep himself warm,
And hide his head under his wing,
Poor thing!
The little people I was reading to would look at
the poor robin huddling on the barn beam while the wind whipped the snow past
the window in the picture, and instinctively snuggle closer to me.
That’s not the robin I’m waiting for.
With apologies to Mother Goose, here’s my poem:
The south wind doth bring
Happy promise of Spring,
And what will sweet robin do then?
Blest thing!
She’ll treble at dawn,
Love-dance on the lawn,
And hide her eggs under her wing,
Blest thing!
This Post’s Quotables:
It seems a shame to be posting such inconsequential
things as bird-sightings when we’ve just spent a weekend seeing Jesus. We went
to Pennsylvania and took in the REACH conference (put on by Faith Builders) on
Thursday and Friday, and then on Saturday we saw the Sight & Sound show
about the life of Christ, which is simply called "Jesus". I hope to do a blog
post about my impressions of these events in the future, but for now I will
share a few quotes I heard in some REACH sessions:
“We have to realize how devastating focusing on
ourselves really is.” – David Yoder
“Being disciplined is foundational for righteous
living like Jesus.” – Irene Yoder
“Who is the light of the world? (We are) What do
you do with light? (Take it to the darkness)” – Rick Rhodes
“What we pray for, we get, and what we pray for,
gets us.” – Allen Roth
This Post’s Childhood Memory:
This time of year, when I see the little run-off
streams that form beside melting snowbanks, I remember the delight of playing
in such “rivers” of Spring when I was a young girl. My sibs and I would get
dropped off at the end of our long lane after school and we’d meander in to the
house, getting waylaid by the beckoning ribbons of water rushing along the
edges of the gravel. Other times it was such fun to extend the playing time
into construction and maintenance of the little streams. We’d clear away winter
debris – dead leaves and stalks of dried weeds – from the collection spots
clogging the waterways and dig little trenches with a short piece of a stout twig
as our backhoe for diverting and funneling in the river system. Most fun of all
was to sail little boats on the Snowmelt River. A boat could be a piece of
paper littered along the lane, an old pine cone frayed from having been driven
over too many times, a large piece of stray straw from the nearby grain field
or a wood chip that had fallen off the pickup when we hauled in slab wood to
the basement. Sometimes we’d get two or more boats of similar size and weight
and seaworthiness and race them on the stream. At such events, my youngest
brother’s excitement had a unique feature. He’d stand with his arms
stretched out rather stiffly at his sides and flutter his fingers as he stood
gleefully mesmerized. I don't think I ever did this particular routine outwardly, but I’m
sure my inner excitement mirrored his.
PS. I wrote most of this post on our way home from
PA. Half an hour after we returned home, I looked out on the lawn and saw not
one, but THREE robins. First Robin Sighting 2019 - yay!
What Spring Sightings give you a little heart-jump of thrill?