Several years ago, I bought two Bradford Pear trees at one of the semi-annual lawn and garden center sales. I wanted the Bradford Pears for three reasons: they flower white in the Spring, their leaves turn red and drop in the Fall, and they grow to 25-35 feet in height. I also wanted to provide a place for the birds. I couldn't wait until the two scrawny twigs I put in the back of my car that day turned into actual trees. As I carefully and lovingly planted them, I looked forward to the day when I could look out my window from my second floor living room and see the trees, and possibly watch and listen to birds darting in and out from the branches.
This morning, that very thing happened. My windows open to the day, I was sitting on my couch and heard fluttering and twittering. I turned my head and looked out the window and there was my tree, for the most part bare to the season, and there was the bird. I've waited years for this, I've nurtured the trees, even talked to them and encouraged their growth while placing my hand on the ever-widening trunks, or touching one of the leaves. I've delighted in how tall they are growing and their ever-widening crowns. But if the birds were there, I've missed them. Until this morning.
It's a mad world out there, but this little scene this morning simplifies everything, and gives me such a big smile.