The Home Nest

Our home is a haven for birds. We have only a few acres, but on that land we have over 100 fruit trees, many raspberry and currant bushes, a small creek surrounded by tall trees, and a very long hedgerow all of which provide food and shelter to bird life galore! So when I came out of our house this morning and spotted these two doves, I thought they were pretty sitting there on our old plough, but they were not an uncommon sight.

And we do get to see lots of birds nests, like the ones I blogged about here and there but usually it's only the common birds that we get to see in their nests, like sparrows and robins and doves.

So I was particularly happy to spot two different birds nesting this week - birds I see regularly flitting around our farm, but rarely have seen on their nest.

Can you see what's peeking out of this tree?

It may just look like a thorn, but it's really this flicker, peeking out to see if it's safe to leave her little ones.

Flickers are a type of woodpecker, which you can easily assume from the skillful manner in which they bore a perfect hole for their nest. Now that I know where they're nesting, I'll keep checking back, hoping to spot the little fledglings when they emerge to try out their wings.

And yesterday, I found this oriole nest, which was really exciting since the oriole builds such an elaborate hanging nest. You can just see the bright yellow female there in the leaves, about to bring her little ones some food.

We have a nest of our own, of course. Here's a picture of the front of our house with one of my favourite roses which is currently in bloom.

And a picture of my favourite garden sign that I found several years ago and hung on one of our arbours. It was just plain metal when I hung it, but now it has the most lovely patina of rust.

Every time I walk through that arbour to our side door, I am reminded of the sense of belonging and security that are associated with the word "Home." If birds could speak our language, I think they'd feel the same way about the word "Nest" - a safe place, a haven, a protected environment where all things, especially love, can grow.

A delicious piece of pie...

Yesterday, due to a series of unfortunate events,

that had nothing to do with Lemony Snicket and everything to do with my pesky younger brother

I was forced to arise at 4:30 in the morning. I am not a morning person. It was painful.

But at 4:30, I got up, walked my dogs, and then had to take them for a drive since they could not go back in their kennel. I found myself driving along the lake watching the Sunrise but then I still had time to kill before I could take my dogs home, so I meandered over to my parents' home expecting to mooch breakfast from my Mum. As it turns out, she was already up and at 'em and not there! And my Dad was still sleeping. So I took my camera and my dogs and I wandered around for a while.

Here are some of the things we spotted:

My Mum's little pansy bed with all their faces turned towards the sun.

Is there anything more inviting than the sight of your own parents' back door?  I think not. 

This climbing hydrangea I bought for my Mum years ago for her birthday.

My Dad's swing, tucked in under the trellis, where you can find him snoozing in the shade every Sunday afternoon.

A bull frog croaking deeply as it sits on the edge of my Dad's pond.

Purple Martins waking up before another day of vigorous bug eating.

And finally, my Mum's cat "Button" who was lying peacefully in the shade,

watching the birds and hoping for a nice "feathered" snack.

"One's home is like a delicious piece of pie you order in a restaurant on a country road one cozy evening - the best piece of pie you have ever eaten in your life - and can never find again."

Lemony Snicket

Coming Home ...

The swallows are back!  I'm not sure why, but I always get rather excited when the swallows arrive back in Spring.  Part of my excitement is actually wonder ... wonder that these tiny little birds are able to make such a long journey all the way back home to Canada from their winter sojourn in South America.  Part of it is just the plain joy in knowing that these birds come back year-after-year to the exact same spot to nest!   In other words, they like our home, and by association I've decided that means they like us too. And I suppose if I'm being totally honest, another reason I get excited is that these birds eat tons of bugs, and anyone who helps get rid of mosquitoes and black flies from my yard is definitely a friend of mine!

When I see the first few swallows arrive, I often wonder if they get excited inside when they finally make it back home and find the same structures that have been here for generations, and the same family co-existing in their space.  Do they worry, while they're flying all those miles, wondering if the barn they've been nesting in for generations untold will suddenly be gone?  Do they wonder if new owners will have moved in who won't appreciate swallows making their messy nests in the eaves and cubbyholes of the barn?  Or do they just fly happily along, content that the building that has stood since 1876 on the particular plot of land I call home, and that has provided their ancestors with shelter for so many generations, will continue to do so for at least another couple of hundred years.

Right now when I come home, I am greeted by the most beautiful sight.

The crabapple trees that line are driveway are in full bloom and their rose-coloured petals are scattered across our driveway, welcoming me home like a bride whose path has been decorated by nature itself.

I always love coming home, because I have felt at home in our house from the moment we got married.  In fact, when I knew Ed was going to propose to me, I asked him to propose in our kitchen.  Why?  Well, I just wanted to start things off right from the first in our home - in the privacy of its embrace, in the sturdiness of this well-built brick farm house that has stood the test of time.  So it is here that he proposed, one room over from where I now sit with my laptop.  And yes, later that day, he did take me up for a surprise helicopter ride and surprised me with flowers.  But it was here in our house, that we started our journey together towards marriage.  When I come home, it is to this place of safety, of security, of love, and of endurance. And for a brief few weeks in Spring, it is a place that welcomes me with a pink petal-lined driveway, with the enveloping scent of our many lilacs, and the twittery sound of barn swallows crying with joy as they swoop through the air, happy to be home.