Final week, as I awoke simply earlier than dawn to awaken my toddler from her crib, I seen that one thing had shifted outdoors my window. Not was the early morning punctuated by a number of drained squeaks from the grackles which might be omnipresent in our yard, however a small symphony of fowl calls had began to as soon as once more emerge from wintertime slumber. I heard warbling, tittering, whistling, and, sure, even honking (howdy, Canadian geese!) My coronary heart leapt: Yard birdwatching season is returning in earnest.
As I’ve mirrored on the rituals and mantras that helped me navigate the previous 12 months of (principally) homebound actions, it’s clear that watching the day by day cleaning soap opera round my yard fowl feeders has been one of many largest sources of pleasure, mindfulness, and perspective for me — and one I don’t plan on giving up anytime