Since Patrick’s accident, Michiana has endured some of the most beautiful summer weather I’ve ever noticed. This week it started raining and didn’t stop until it reached record rainfall levels this weekend.
The last few months my family’s life has had that metaphorical record rainfall.
I think it started early this summer when the mama robin built her nest on the ledge of my bedroom window, right above my bed. My family watched the nest daily. She laid her eggs, the featherless helpless babies hatched, the mama and papa robin took turns feeding them as they grew, their cheeping ever-present as I lay in bed.
One day, suddenly, the kids came running in frantically saying there was a big commotion by the nest with a bigger bird. By the time we got out there, all babies were gone from the nest. We spotted one that couldn’t fly yet, stuck in the groundcover below its nest.
For the next several days we spent much of our time taking turns standing vigil in the birds’ woodsy domain, making sure Willie the cat didn’t catch our baby bird. The mama and papa bird continued to feed that baby bird every 30-45 minutes.