Three things about birds

Thing 1:

When I was a child I loved everything my dad loved. I’m sure it’s common, and I haven’t had it analyzed, but I’m sure there’s nothing too incredibly deep about it. It probably has some very sensible evolutionarily adaptive explanation, I just haven’t formally gone there yet. My dad loved the New York Mets, Snickers Bars, and Cardinalis cardinalis, (also known as the Northern or Common Cardinal). I’ve seen a lot of them this season so far, and for the first time ever I’ve also memorized their call. Also, I laughed so hard and long with delight just now when I looked up its scientific name. When I hear one now, I always take a moment to look around, and when I spot a male Cardinal, I am —without exception—filled with calm and blessed with an involuntary wrinkling of my eye-corners and crinkling of my nose and upturning of my mouth-crescent. This is colloquially known as a “smile” and it happens to me every time. Cardinals make me think of my dad and I’m pretty sure they always will.

Thing 2:

When I work from home I always have a cup of tea at my desk and last week I found this set of delightful cardboard coasters on the give/take shelf of our building’s laundry room. They are cheap but quite charming and just what I needed, as my previous coasters had disintegrated/disappeared. I don’t know all their names, but if you do, I wouldn’t mind being enlightened.

Thing 3:

I am telling you this in trust and confidence and not because I’m embarrassed or concerned that I could get in trouble or anything like that, but because I may be asking you to keep a secret—from me.

As a child I remember first hearing the song of a bird that I never saw. Or maybe I did, but I never saw the bird singing the song so I never learned the face or name of the bird that sings it. I would hear it in the early mornings when I woke up in a tent. I would hear it when I was alone in the woods diligently diverting the stream behind my house. I would hear it in the early Spring when the air was still cold and pricked my lungs with aliveness.

For a long time the song was lost. Maybe I lived in the wrong places. Maybe the population of this bird was suffering. Maybe I lost the ears to hear it. I don’t know. But the song and the bird has been back in my life for the past few years and I still hear it but have never seen its singer. And now I really like it that way. In fact, I think I would be devastated at this point to connect all the dots. A bird I’ve surely seen, a bird whose name I’ve surely heard, and a bird whose song is stitched so securely into the muscle of my heart that I want to live the rest of my life only hearing and knowing the song. I want to die having loved something I could never name.

Here is where I put my trust in you. To the best of my ability, here is my transcription of the song. I don’t know if the key is correct, but I know it’s in a flat key, in the way you just know when something is in a flat key.

If you know this bird’s name or form, please don’t tell me. I’m counting on you.

END OF BIRD SECTION

That unrivaled herald of Spring

We shall now speak briefly of that unrivaled herald of Spring—the lilac (Syringa vulgaris). This week the soft sweet scent of lilac has been wafting my way on every breeze and this is how I truly know that Springtime has gently landed. If your personal unrivaled herald of Spring is something else, well that is your right and I understand and support you. But if I notice you varying from your path in order to stick your face in a lilac bush along your way, there is a good chance I will immediately, enthusiastically, and awkwardly try to befriend you on the spot. Lilacs appear in a variety of colors, including: the classic light purplish color with which the species shares a common name, a delicate near-white, and a rich and haughty sort of dark magenta. I love them all but the bush in my childhood backyard (the one overlooking the massive ant colony on the slope down to the neighbor’s plot) was of the classic variety and as you know, nothing from your childhood—whether good, bad, or otherwise—is likely to release you from its well-meaning conservatorship.

And finally

I made a few new songs. They are not strictly in keeping with the theme of Spring, but I’m shoehorning them in by reminding us all that this time of year is for Being Alive and for remembering that you are alive and for saying thanks to The Lord or whomever that she has brought you around to another Spring season. The songs have been marinating for a few years and they go nicely together and so last week I decided to record them in my bedroom. They are small and simple, and I worked hard on making them so, because the best things are small and simple and mean something. I hope you enjoy them and that they help affirm for you that it is indeed interesting being a Living Thing.

The image link is to Bandcamp, which is the best place for artists to digitally share work. You can also listen on Tidal (good), Spotify (ick, Ek), Apple Music, and some other places too I think.

That’s all for now! I hope you know that you are very important, and so is everyone else.

You can read previous episodes of this email HERE.