Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Birds in the Morning
There was a dove outside my window this morning. Personally, I can’t think of a sweeter sound, especially after several months of hard winter. I turned the sound down on the TV when I heard him (I was once again exercising, which according to my scale is still a fruitless endeavor). I ran in place with my arm weights in silence, like a goof, just listening to that bird.
My best memories involve the sound of birds. My parents built their dream house when I was 12. It sits on the edge of a mountain, overlooking a creek in a valley. When they finally got the framework up for that house that first winter, I stood on the back porch and gazed at the stark, leafless hills and heard a crow calling through the valleys. I've heard that crows are lonely birds, but I don’t feel that way. They remind me of the house I call home, of the adventure we had as a family when we built it and moved out to the 'sticks.'
Birds make me remember sleeping over at my best friend's house in high school. It was a little blue and white house next to a constantly flowing creek. Giant oak trees blocked out most of the sunlight, everything was always cool and blue and shaded. We would lie in bed at night, windows open, curtains fluttering as mockingbirds chorused in those giant oaks. It was the most beautiful sound I've ever heard.
When Matt and I bought this house, we had to paint every inch of it. It was April and we threw open the windows for ventilation. We would arrive to that empty house every day after work the week before we moved in, open the windows and happily paint our very first home. It felt so bizarre, so grown up, so not like us. There were doves then too, cooing late into the night as we painted in the spring air.
As I ran in place this morning, breathing shallowly so I could hear that lone dove, I got so excited. I was filled with good memories and good feelings. I thought of the climbing rose bush I hope to plant, the long walks we take with Mabel down by the lake when the weather turns. Who knew one little dove in the morning could change my whole day?