Around me the birds are singing their songs of mating and calling to one another. My nesting boxes in the field are filled with new babies of different kinds. Wrens, bluebirds and swallows. As I mow past the boxes, mommies dive bomb at me, asking me to go away. Please. I follow their instruction, but know I must do it again in a week. As always, they are getting used to me.
As I enter this sweet space I am welcomed. My heart lifts and I'm ready to put words on paper. If we love to write it is essential to make a place, a nest, to be comfy and entirely at peace with your world. Your higher self will take over after that and your words will take care of themselves.
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