e.i.b.: Surprises!

and the web of life.

Ernest and I were walking yesterday morning, overcast skies but with a hint of summer-coming warmth that reminded me it is in fact May instead of September.

Two crows were sitting atop a chimney of a house. One crow had her beak slanted upward to the sky firmly and calmly holding a tiny bright blue ball. The other crow flew away. And this crow flew down to the grass in front of the house. Ernest sniffed behind me, scents in the tall grasses being more intriguing than the crow. I stared at the crow holding this little blue ball.

My thoughts went first to why is this crow holding something in her mouth that isn’t food? A peanut I’d understand. But this tiny blue ball? Was it a child’s toy? I hoped she didn’t accidentally swallow it.

She put the tiny blue ball down in the grass, looked around and then pecked at it a bit, then stopped, then seemed to eat it. Yep, she was eating it.

I started laughing. And my mind finally accepted and remembered the truth of crows, their intelligence, and their world beyond my own—and the fact that this was a robin’s egg and most certainly not an almost accidentally swallowed bouncy ball.

Witnessing this crow enjoy her breakfast (or at least one course of it) and understanding the reality of the robin’s emptier nest, it threw me for a loop in the exact way that I needed on a gray Monday morning. As I walked I wondered why this moment was what I needed to witness.

It was the unexpected, surprising nature of it all and how my thoughts had been narrow and then were laughably thrown off course. It was a gentle way of reminding me I am so not in control of what and who is around me.

I am so not in control of the weaves of the world.

Ernest and I kept walking and we ended up going on the long loop passed a close view of the Puget Sound with a big uphill back towards our neighborhood. We hadn’t walked this heart-thumping loop in awhile and I hadn’t planned for it just then. The inkling of a reason we chose to walk the loop was that I wanted to intentionally invite more unexpected surprises into my—and our—day.

Thank you, crow, for sharing an unexpected gift with me. Thank you, robin and robin’s egg, for being a part of the web of life. Thank you, Ernest, for walking these paths with me. Thank you, world, for reminding me of what is within my control and what is beyond it.

Is there an unexpected surprise you’ve witnessed recently?

Maybe it’s supported you feeling a sense of re-connection?

If so, I’d love to read about it. You can leave a comment or reply to this emailed post.

Til tomorrow,

Cassandra