“Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”

― Terry Tempest Williams, When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice

I sit one evening on the wooden coffee table in our family room with my camera pointed out the door where I have a perfect view of the bird feeders. I am hidden enough that the birds pay me no mind. I use my older, heavier camera as it seems to be sharper with the big lens I am holding. (I think it is a matter of the operator and not the lens or the camera.) The cast on my right hand is awkward and my hand gets tired as I fumble with settings, but I stay put for a good thirty minutes or so. Most of the time the camera is sitting in my lap as I rest my hand and just I watch the frolicking going on at the feeder, something I would have never done before. Before I would have shot off 35 or so shots, crossed my fingers and gotten up and walked right to my office, excited to see what I captured. On this evening I am happy to get 10 or so shots and delighted even more with the evening light and the birds.

There are so many lessons in life I still need to learn.

“I pray to the birds. I pray to the birds because I believe they will carry the messages of my heart upward. I pray to them because I believe in their existence, the way their songs begin and end each day—the invocations and benedictions of Earth. I pray to the birds because they remind me of what I love rather than what I fear. And at the end of my prayers, they teach me how to listen.”

― Terry Tempest Williams, Refuge: An Unnatural History of Family and Place