birdsong

We bought our house because of the yard.  The backyard looked like a mountain meadow.  Complete with rocky spring and tiny pond.  It was beautiful.  After we moved in it was apparent that the yard was designed as a bed and breakfast for birds.  Hundreds of birds.  So many birds that even when we brought in the two monster dogs and the clawless killer cat (how the HELL does she catch small creatures with no front claws?) the birds contend that possession is 9/10ths of the law and refuse to vacate their summer residence.  The bushes are full of berries for them to eat.  The woodsy area in the corner is full of nesting sites.  The animals, domestic and wild, are resigned to each other’s company.  There are even some cheeky jays and robins and magpies that tease the dogs and cats.  

Our yard is resonant with birdsong from spring through fall.  And for a few precious weeks in late April and early May, and again in September, the outdoor temperature is mild enough that we can leave our windows open to catch the sonic play.  

Klove had her miscarriage follow-up appointment today.  Her uterus has returned to normal size, the cervix also looks normal.  She is definitely not pregnant.  She’s nearly finished bleeding.  Dr. Blue Eyes says that the common advice to wait 3 months before trying again is old fashioned and pointless.  She says to wait until Klove has a period and then go ahead and try again right away.  We’re thinking of inseminating me later this week just to feel like we’re doing something.  I’m lying on the bed listening to trills and interrupting the songs with my coughs.  The birds don’t mind. In a half hour I’ll get up and go to work.  Maybe I’ll take the laptop out into the church’s backyard and sit in the center of the labyrinth to write my reports.  Sometimes sunshine is as healing as sleeping.  

Our house is reverberant today.    I think I can smell the forsythia and lilacs.