So many of our lives’ earlier pleasures have been curtailed by the virus. These days I miss concerts, movies, sporting events, family hugs, gatherings with friends, in-person book group meetings, easy conversations over dinners in restaurants, poking around grocery stores, annual camping trips with grandkids; my list goes on… Maybe because of this, perhaps in spite of this, I am finding myself paying more attention to any pleasurable moments to be had.

I have been feeling wistful remembering the little wren couple that has nested in my bird houses over the last ten or so years. This year, they had not returned. I wondered if they were ok. Maybe not. Maybe they had found a new home… I missed their song and I missed watching them flit about my gardens.

Then today, I again heard their lovely intricate melody. Such a welcome song: their gift. Balm for my frayed soul.

Hearing them again in my gardens, I sat in my lawn chair and waited. Before long, the first little wren flew to the pink bird house located just under the roof of my home. In she went, then out and off she flew. It was the second one’s turn… It looks like they are, once again, busy with readying their home for the little ones, oblivious to everything going on for the rest of us.