,~For the past three springs, I have been watching her carefully and diligently build her little nest in the eaves between the porch and garage. I think she’s just a wee, common, house sparrow, but she is bright, busy and tenacious. Her nests have all been meticulous bits of Nature’s architectural engineering and artistry; lovingly and tightly woven pieces of twigs, leaves, dog hair, and string, tucked away in a corner that should have been an ideal location. It wasn’t. For three springs, I have watched as each brilliant little creation has been ripped from its moorings by the shrieking Nevada zephyrs that rise from somewhere deep within the sands of the surrounding desert hills and canyons, to careen across the landscape, scouring and tearing anything on their chaotic journeys.

~My heart always breaks for this tiny, feathered creature. Her determination, patience and hard work go unrewarded……no home, no family. For such a short time, at least in human terms, this feathered, little busybody was resolute, focused and happy, presumably, in her pre-ordained labors, only to have everything swept away, to ride aloft on the whirlwinds of Nevada dust. What does she think, and where does she go after the loss of her home? Questions I am now asking for myself as I must, once again, pack up and move on, to ……..somewhere.

~The small house that I have been occupying for these past three years is being sold and the new owners do not want to maintain my tenancy, keeping it unoccupied for kids and grandkids when they come to visit. I had made this into my own small, cozy nest, one I had hoped to remain in for some years to come. However, again, I am one with the dust, swirled along with the winds of change that have catapulted me from home to home over the past ten years. I can only hope and pray that all that has happened, and is happening, becomes a blessing, as promised in so many Biblical passages.

~ I feel a certain kinship with that little bird…we had a home, now we don’t. We both labored alone to put our “nests” together. We are both, for a third time, borne away on the shoulders of winds we can’t control. I do, however, consider her to be, in a small way, luckier than I….she doesn’t have ten years of nesting material to haul away.