Among the many things that I'm still not quite used to in this new climate are: palm trees. I've never lived close to them before let alone had one outside my window. Luckily this little Western Scrub Jay is making me acquainted.
Every Morning this boy or girl (the male and female Scrub Jays look alike) has coffee with me, wandering from spot to spot in the trees and venturing almost close enough for me to see the reflection of sky in his eyes.
Soon after I moved to this house the stories began to come out of the beloved woman whose home it was for most of her life. She lived in this small cabin alone and could be found at her Baby Grand Piano on most days (how she managed to get it up the hill and into the house is a magic feat all of its own) teaching the the neighborhood music. Strangers told me of her profound love of nature and how the birds near the house would even land on her hands from time to time.
The only thing is, most of these storytellers never even had the opportunity to meet her. There have been many people who have lived in this house between her time and mine, but the stories still have a strong and palpable presence. . .
. . . perhaps her birds are telling the tale.
~ Sarah
*Last time in Nature: Nesting
