I'm always grateful for the birds that have made their nests in my paper box for the last three years.  Once you get over the shock of having a mother bird fly out at you at the mailbox, it becomes a ritual of watching and waiting, and a good bit of caretaking.  I think it reminds me of the baby birds we would find growing up and got to nurture until they could fly off on their own.  This year's nest started out as a few leaves, which I mistakenly thought was just some caught-up debris, so I pulled them out.  The next day, it was a full nest, and there was no mistaking it for a determined homestead of some sort.  Within a few days, there were eggs, and my nurturing instincts took over.  One afternoon, a small, speckled egg was out of the nest and not seeing either parent around, I picked it up and gently tossed it back into its home.  Maybe I shouldn't have done that.  Did my touching it make a difference?  Was there a problem with that "bad egg" that I couldn't discern with my human senses?  In any case, I never saw the birds in there again, and after weeks of no activity, I knew the nest was abandoned, leaving three eggs.  While I am sorry that the eggs didn't hatch, I always feel privileged to receive the nest as a still life subject, and honor the handiwork of the birds that made it.  Since this nest was quite long and narrow (like the mailbox), the oil painting is nearly life-sized at 12" x 24".  I've had clients tell me that birds' nest paintings are special to them because of the number of eggs in the nest...it corresponds to their children. While I never made that connection before, I love that idea...even after the kids are grown, it's a subtle reminder of a loving home, and the nurturing that goes on there.  

Just as I enjoy seeing the baby birds start their journey from our mailbox, I have enjoyed seeing our two grown children grow and leave our nest.  Well, maybe "enjoyed" isn't the right word.  My husband and I know they needed to move out of the nest for everyone's normal development. (We do not really want a "failure to launch"!)  We've been really fortunate in that they both went to college (the same one, actually) that was within a few hours' drive of our city. 

Natalie's education took her to a variety of places:  Copenhagen, Vietnam, New Hampshire and then Florida, and now she is starting her career just over the border into South Carolina.  After completing her Master's, I'm really relishing the time that she is home while she gets settled in her job and finds her own apartment.  It's been quite a while since she really lived here, and I know this is extra time that parents don't usually get.  The best part, though,  is seeing her with her brother.  

Nick also works within an hour or so of home, but his career (coaching college football) is such that he might not work at the same place for very long.  I can see that, having gone separate ways in the last few years, they are appreciating the moments when they are together.  These are becoming fewer and further between.  When we are all together, I can feel the energy in the room change.  They are laughing.  Someone is singing.  They are excited to see each other.  It makes me think of my mother and her siblings who, in the days of the Great Depression, would sing, dance and entertain each other.  I totally understand it:  they sent brothers off to the war, and now they were together.  They celebrated the good times while they could.  Of course, sending my children off now is not nearly as precarious as when my grandmother did it.  But I still want to appreciate my intact nest every time I can.  Thank heaven I can do that here. 

Those birds? They rebuild a new nest quickly and relentlessly. And they send their young ones off season after season.  Those babies aren't in the nest for more than a few weeks.  How brave!    "Thank you" to those birds in my mailbox for reminding me of that.  

Until next time!

Mary