Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Every spring I buy at least one Boston Fern. And every summer (early in the summer) I throw it away because it has been scorched and dried out by the sun. In spite of frequent watering. Yet if you hang them where there is no sun, they wither.
This year I found the perfect setting. A part of my front porch gets a minimal amount of sun, but a good deal of daylight. Wow. I'd finally found the secret to a happy, healthy Boston Fern. It was thriving, and I was proud.
Then one day, I reached the spout of my little green watering can in and out flew a bird. I pulled up a chair, stood on it, and peered in. Right where I was getting ready to douse the plant there was a hole dug in the dirt, and a deep bird nest with two tiny eggs in it. To water the plant would be to soak the eggs. Now, if I understand correctly, bird eggs are porous, and if they're submerged in water, the egg can't "breathe."
What is more important, a Boston Fern, or two potential baby birds? No contest. The plant is history!
We've been listening for a sign of life, and this morning, while having our coffee a mere three feet from the location of the nest, we saw the Mama drop into the plant with something in her mouth. Nano-seconds later, the sound of baby birds squealing for breakfast. I couldn't see them, but I knew their little beaks were wide open to receive!
The plant is looking awful. But there's always next year.
Somehow I think I'm supposed to fit in the theme of this blog, "The Battle is Real." Well, it is. And we must fight the good fight without ceasing. But along the way, don't forget to appreciate the creation God has blessed us with. Like the sound of newly-hatched baby birds, squealing for their breakfast.