When I was little, I had a pet pigeon named Harriet. Harriet flew into our sliding glass window and knocked herself out and never left the yard until the day she disappeared. My daddy rigged up an old lobster crate with a tunnel to the outside where she could crawl in and out. I would have friends over and we would all go and watch Harriet coo-coo-cooing in her lobster crate – I was a bit mysterious for having a pet pigeon, you see.
We grew up loving birds. I remember my parents heating the water in the birdbath so the birds would have water in the winter. We always had bird-feeders; Grandpa made them and we loved filling them up with yummy bird treats…cardinals love sunflower seeds, did you know?
Anyway, I love birdies. I love their pretty fluttering, their feathers. I love their tweets and chirps and tra-la-las. I love that birds are so predominant in decor right now….pillows and papers and doo-dads like this one. Russell is so lucky I have not come home with an actual bird. I had five in college (and all at the same time) and then we had Yoyo the Unlucky Canary for about a week.
I am so ready for Spring. For the return of the birds to the yard. For flights of fancy and bluebird days. My bluebird of happiness.