New Life...

Alongside all the shocking grief and anger inundating our world this month, births and birthdays are quietly happening. I was born in May. It can be a month for being more attentive to the fact of my existence. That old question can pop up: Why was I born? Why am I here and living the life I am living? What more can I do to justify my aliveness in the time I have left? It can get pretty serious. 

This year is serious enough without my inward gazing. So I accept a surprising birthday gift from Laurel, who also photographs birds. Her passion and patience are greater than mine. She is considerably younger with exuberant spilling energy, which does me a lot of good (in small doses). Our brief encounters take place in the park with space between us, but plenty of communication. We both have small dogs.

Laurel showed me the green heron babies, still on their nest and being visited frequently by an overwrought mother. Thanks to Laurel, I have observed, delighted in and photographed these babies as they quickly grew into adolescent birds who could fly and catch food for themselves. They are still in the area, glimpsed occasionally, still recognizable by there fuzzy topknots. Remarkably, new eggs have been born already into the old nest. I know this because Laurel "saw it happen! 

Two extras: one of Laurel and Pickles, and one of two babies...  "We can fly!"