The Love of Mourning Doves 

I bought three bird feeders (and a hummingbird feeder I have yet to hang) for my mom for her birthday and Mother’s Day earlier this year. After I turned an adult we kinda just pretend to give each other something for a special occasion when really we just give each other gifts all year round. 

Case in point, the bird feeders. I supply the food that keeps the MANY birds coming back each day as well as squirrels. Since I’ve hung them, we are THE place for birds in the neighborhood. 

Seriously, I can never get a photo of it but sometimes out back yard is a scene from the movie “The Birds”. It’s delightful and horrifying. 

Anyway, for a while now a pair or one of the couple of grey doves partakes in visiting our humble acreage. Out of all the birds that come (okay, besides the road runners and the quail), these doves fascinate me and spark hope. 

After some really rough anxiety days, I kind of enjoy the thought of looking out the window and seeing one or both of them, connected and caring for the earth and each other. 

They give me hope in my foggiest of days when I feel like I’m grasping for air and a post to rest before I have to make it to the next block. 

My journey might not be pretty or fun, but at least I can still find hope and strength, no matter how small it may feel. 


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