I watched the herons the other day, as you might know, I had a heron sitting in last years leftover nest looking like it was going to be her home for the season. It was exciting watching the interplay of 3 herons. A male and two females in two nests about 500 feet apart. But the male clearly had a preference for the female in the other nest in my neighbor’s yard as he had been spending all his time dismantling the nest in my yard. He came and went taking the twigs apart from the nest in my yard while my female stood and watched – she has been standing in that nest each morning as if waiting for the male to come and spend some time, but he doesn’t, he only comes to see what limbs and branches he can procure for his other lover. It’s rather
heartbreaking. Here’s the female on the nest before it was taken apart. She’s loud and proud, and here she is several days later, on new years eve, looking for her past life, head down wondering what happened, or maybe that’s only me projecting….
She had watched hopelessly for days as he dismantled her home, it was depressing. Even now, she still comes early, around 7:30 am and paces the branch where the old nest was, as if waiting for the male to rebuild a new nest. So far he has shown no interest in her desires.
My grand daughters came for X-mas with their daddy to stay a few days. Kira was napping, daddy was on the computer so Iyla and I ran out to play. We watched the herons fly over head. The male was very busy flying with large whooping and bossy wings that sounded like they pushed a lot of air around and mastered the wind.
Iyla said she wanted to be a bird and fly, so we headed for the “Boobie Tree” as she refers to the camphor tree where her swing hangs from a pretty high branch.
The pink, plastic swing was forced into action as Iyla would cast out her arms to her sides in the wind and scream, declaring she was a birdie flying. Those tiny limbs waving in pure joy. We laughed, sang songs, Itsy Bitsy Spider, Wrecking Ball, Roar and joked about a few of the lower branches kept trying to grab at the swing as if to slow her flight a bit. We were having a great time watching the birds, identifying the cardinals, woodpeckers, mockingbirds, listening to their chatter and the funny sounds of squirrels conversing. Crows seemed to be multiplying in the treetops. “CawCawCaw” we shouted back as they flew from tree to tree. A cloud parade floated past by as I listened to Iyla’s joyous laughter, it was making my heart swell!
I was letting my last push wind down so we could look for bugs WHEN THE ROPE SNAPPED OFF!!! I watched in horror as a pink ejection seat fell to the ground about 10 feet from me, looking like a turtle with a pink shell on it’s back, legs flailed in the air, where wailing had commenced. In a panic, I vaulted forward, taking the seat straps off quickly, taking note of any injuries. I noticed the plastic seat had broken with the fall, but was high and had actually buffered her neck and back. I was so scared there might be serious injuries, something sprained or broken: arms, legs, fingers – but she was anxious to get out and hug me and cry, cry cry — All was fine, unscathed, thank goodness! I am still a mess over that sight of my grandbaby flying away into the grass with the broken knotted rope. I suppose it might have traumatized her to not want to get on a swing again. The nightmarish visions haunt me — I didn’t protect her! I still see the “whatif” scenerios though. Aaron, her dad said kids are meant to get banged up doing things, he was totally forgiving, but how can I forgive myself for my negligence? Why didn’t I check that rope, though it held for at least about 15 minutes before it snapped — Ohhhhh, it gives me chills.
The Boobie Tree now has only a partial rope hanging down, a line without a noose. I just want to put both these tiny girls in a bubble till they are of legal age, consenting adults. My blood pressure is elevating thinking about them getting hurt at all. I wonder if they will always remember their grandmother Abbe always saying, “be careful,” “don’t eat so fast”, “let me help you”. I uber worry about so many things now, what a responsibility caring for babies, how did I let my own children just be kids? Though I must add Adam, (30 years old) was going to the beach a few minutes ago and the last thing I said, “be careful, drive carefully”!
None of my kids ever had broken bones, except for Andrea, but she was an adult when she broke her foot. Aaron had a few concussions from wake boarding, can remember being in the emergency room twice in the same week and the nurse remembered him and joked about his legs being so long and hanging off the table. I was calm back then, what has happened to my anxiety level?
Why have I become such an old worry-wart? Oy, the guilt! I still feel lousy about it and even see it in my dreams –
Iyla flying out of control in her swing to where? Maybe it’s why I give her and her sister wings in many of my “abbstrax” pics – a scenario where she can fly away from bad things and situations. I just want the world to treat babies well, if only.
The worst was when Iyla looked at me later, finger in mouth, big, innocent, clear orbs looking at life from such a young perspective. We spoke about the bad swing, and the boobie tree, and she said, “I don’t want to fly and be a birdie, Abbe.” That hurt my heart, I told her she could fly in her dreams. She closed her eyes and smiled. When she’s here with me at night, I always tell her as she goes to sleep, she’s going to dreamland on the back of a bird.
She likes that, though lately she loves letting the youtube thunderstorm videos guide her into slumber. Ah, it’s hard to protect these little ones from harm. they all must fall and draw blood at some point, they must cut their teeth on reality, I only want this innocence to remain a while longer, long enough till I can see both girls grown and flying happily on their own…
HAPPY NEW YEAR, MAY IT BRING PLEASURE AND GOOD THINGS YOUR WAY — hugs, abbe