My husband is cleaning up the carport today which means that the barn swallows' nest has to go, along with the pile of poop beneath it. I have taken so many pictures during nest making, bird feeding and flight training. The adult birds and young chicks left the nest weeks ago, but it still just seems so sad to wash it all away with a water hose, especially with Hurricane Irene bearing down on the East Coast. David assured me not to worry - the swallows will be back next year, build another nest and hatch more chicks, just like they do every spring. As soon as he spoke the words, I remembered a book that I read more than fifteen years ago.
I was asked to speak at a county-wide luncheon for a hundred business and professional women. I knew these women had made the choice to work, and I wanted to deliver a speech that would impact them as they balanced home and work. Buzz words such as multi-tasking, organization, goal planning and time management were at the top of my list, when I came across a children's book by Pearl S. Buck. Mrs. Starling's Problem...hmmm, I thought...what is Mrs. Starling's problem? I pulled the old book off the shelf. After I read it, I immediately wrote my speech entitled "Only One Spring".
In the final pages of the book, the process of leaving the nest is complete. The text reads as follows: They did not stay little very long. Soon, very soon, the little birds grew glossy black feathers and nice wings which they did not know how to use at first. Indeed, Mr. Starling had to push them out of the nest, although Mrs. Starling begged him to do it gently.
"They are so little," she explained.
"They are birds and they must learn to fly," Mr. Starling said firmly.
The day came when all the little starlings flew away. The nest was empty. Mr. and Mrs. Starling looked at it sadly.
"It happens so fast," Mrs. Starling sighed. "They are babies, they grow up, they are gone."
"There will always be another spring," Mr. Starling said.
~THE END~
I told those ladies that, unlike the Starlings, we don't have next spring to start the process of nest building again. No matter if we are in the phase of nest making, or bird feeding, or flight training, we have only one spring. We have only one season of babies in diapers, only one season of little league, only one season of proms. We have only one season of teaching our children to walk, and only one season of teaching our children to fly. When our little chicks are grown and have flown away from the safety of the nest, our one spring is over. We aren't able to say, "I didn't quite like the outcome of that nest experience, so I'll do better next spring in a different location with a new family of birds."
That's why the Tomorrow Trunk has been so important to me. That's why the concept of 'only one spring' has been so important to me. I won't ever have another one. Next year, my two baby birds will graduate from college, and their one spring will start. They will begin the process of nest making, and bird feeding, and flight training. Hopefully, all the lessons they have learned from the two adults who have been responsible for their survival will leave the nest with them.
As I watched the detailed design of the barn swallows' nest dissolve into a mud puddle in the corner of the carport, I thought about that sweet little book which is now part of my collection. I have never forgotten the profound impact that those three words had on my life - only one spring. Our ability to feed our babies may require us to leave the nest for long hours; even so, the nest is all that really matters to those baby birds. Learning to fly can be scary, painful and even dangerous at times; however, the lessons learned and the skills acquired during the process are vital to survival. And even though we sometimes have to peck the ones we love to get them to leave the nest, that magnificent solo flight is always the expectation!
My one spring has been ordinary and outrageous, wild and wonderful, normal and bizarre, first class and coach. Although my nest is empty, my Tomorrow Trunk is filled. I don't desire another spring ~ a repeat or a replacement. I am ready for a new season. Maybe I will find a new nest, but all I need now is room for two.
Dianne ; )
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