I have never been able to figure out why subjects that we haven’t written about for some time seem to surface in more than one story all at once. It’s odd; one of those few gratifying, not-inherently-upsetting mysteries that it feels safe to ponder.
We do not write about birds often. We love looking at them, but no one would mistake this paper for the Ornithologists’ Gazette. But this week, we were given two stories, and two sets of stunning photos, that at least parenthetically involve birds.
And then Beth Chananie, our community editor, walked outside her house and found a nest, right next to her door, right there, with three eggs the color of Pantone’s robin’s egg blue. Perhaps that shouldn’t be surprising, because they were in fact a robin’s eggs.
The eggs hatched; now there are three tiny little birds. Nestlings, I believe they’re called, and how glorious it is to be able to use that words, in the middle of a glorious spring.
Because here’s the thing.
The world is in dire shape. The reports we get from Alexander Smukler on the war in Ukraine are terrifying. They get worse every week. This country is so bitterly divided, and the outlook for democracy is so dim, that it’s hard not to be afraid for our future. And this week’s leaked memo on Roe v. Wade — well, without saying anything else, it seems entirely neutral to say that the fallout won’t be pretty. It will, in fact, be disastrous.
And then there is the nest with the three robin’s egg blue eggs in it. There are two of the three nestlings (See! I can do it again!) opening their mouths for some yummy worm sections; don’t worry, the third one is fine, just not in this photo.
If there are robins and eggs that hatch, and days where all the flowering trees are pink and white and occasionally deep maroon, then we’ll be okay.