In the spring I enjoy watching the birds strut their stuff. The air is warm, the females look fine, and the males in this case a chickadee have found a great spot for a nest and to raise chicks. This particular chickadee died a couple of years ago after raising a third nest.
He had owned the vent on the side of our apartment building and would rest in the tree out side our balcony. The tree is also gone now, but a year ago another chickadee male took over the prime real estate, and so the circle begins again.
The clouds are gray and white mist against the foothills of the Sierra Mountains, and in the mist darker whisper clouds chase each other. One looks like a fleeing bird and the pursuer looks like a dragon. Sometimes as I look at the mountains around me, I see the bones of dragons in the mountains. They rise to the sky, and I see how my ancestors could see spirits, nymphs, elves, and sylphs in the land around them. I come from an ancestry of northern myths and lands of Odin and Frigga. But I am also a product of the land around me.
My family settled in the West in the early 1840s. I have family who lived in Massachusetts and the early colonies. So when my foster sister used to talk about the Navajo myths I could also see them in the desert around me.
The beautiful thing about this place of ours is that so many people have immigrated here– from the Native Americans to the Europeans. All these cultures and DNA has mixed together to make one nation. Us.
Valentine’s Day is a day of love and romance. But it is also a day of love and family (especially those of us who have significant others). We are the present and the future, built upon the past.