Two months ago, well before Christmas, I wrote a post (it’s here) about a teeny-tiny bird’s nest I had discovered in the spindly branches of an old bush in the Manse’s front yard. When I discovered it, I was surprised by two things: One, how very small it was; how could a family of birds, even wee ones, live there? And two, how had this nest managed to survive long past the bird-hatching season and into early December, after some practically gale-force winds, and still be there?
Okay, so fast-forward two months, less a day or two, to now. I was shovelling out our driveway yesterday after a dump of snow that resulted in cancelled school buses and a general snow day throughout the area, when to my great surprise I spotted, out of the corner of my eye, that same tiny bird’s nest. Wearing a hat of snow, and still there, after many more days and nights of strong winds, heavy snow and freezing rain (sometimes all three at once) since I’d last paid it any mind and taken its picture,
And all I have to say about that is this: Is it not remarkable, and beautiful, how strong a tiny and seemingly fragile bit of nature can be?