I was in coastal Georgia at the beginning of January, a landscape defined by its 368,000 acres of marshland. My first morning there began with the thrum of unknown wings in the dark, the sun a slow-burning ember behind a silhouette of trees on the horizon. The sunrise was a miniature lesson in the ancient relationship of birds and light: different calls came across the cordgrass, cued by the growing brightness of the sky. Great blue heron croaked. White ibis’s wingtips buzzed. Other songs and calls ebbed and flowed from species I could neither locate in the dawn, nor identify by their voices.
Oh, what a beautiful way to start the day. I’m reading in bed before I join the family fray, and I am reminded of lying in my grandparents bed listening to the radio station that always played bird song at dawn. I hadn’t had a chance to revisit that memory in a long time. And thank you for taking us into the marsh with you. That idea that the bird has always been with us and will depart with the soul does will stay with me for a long time
Cape Cod's easy listening station was almost completely terrible in the 80s - except at 6 AM when I was snuggled in with my two favorite people in the world! And oh, how important the memories of bird were with them...
Thank you for taking us into the marshes with you this morning, Chelsea. It’s still cold and snowy here so the birds aren’t saying much yet. I listened to your recording under the bed covers, trying to stay warm a little longer. It made me feel Aspen’s age — secretly listening to birds in bed!
:)) Yes! Thank you so much for this comment -- there really is something so cozy about birds in the morning. We heard a few songbirds here in Maine yesterday and it reminded me of camping when I was young, and those slow mornings when there's nothing much to do other than lie in your tent and wake up with the birds.
Hey Chelsea ~ have you come across Chris Maynard's enchanting feather art? Maybe one of his pieces would make a wonderful cover for your upcoming book.
Oh, what a beautiful way to start the day. I’m reading in bed before I join the family fray, and I am reminded of lying in my grandparents bed listening to the radio station that always played bird song at dawn. I hadn’t had a chance to revisit that memory in a long time. And thank you for taking us into the marsh with you. That idea that the bird has always been with us and will depart with the soul does will stay with me for a long time
Thank you so much, Marisa. I love this memory you shared--a radio station playing birdsong at dawn! How beautiful.
Cape Cod's easy listening station was almost completely terrible in the 80s - except at 6 AM when I was snuggled in with my two favorite people in the world! And oh, how important the memories of bird were with them...
you have me weeping over this one. what a beautiful reminder that I didn't know I needed this badly.
A beautiful expression of "entwinement," Chelsea! I felt my spirit being gently re-woven into the morning light and lifted upward with the birdsong.
Thank you, Kate, that is just so heartwarming and lovely to hear. <3
Thank you for taking us into the marshes with you this morning, Chelsea. It’s still cold and snowy here so the birds aren’t saying much yet. I listened to your recording under the bed covers, trying to stay warm a little longer. It made me feel Aspen’s age — secretly listening to birds in bed!
:)) Yes! Thank you so much for this comment -- there really is something so cozy about birds in the morning. We heard a few songbirds here in Maine yesterday and it reminded me of camping when I was young, and those slow mornings when there's nothing much to do other than lie in your tent and wake up with the birds.
Hey Chelsea ~ have you come across Chris Maynard's enchanting feather art? Maybe one of his pieces would make a wonderful cover for your upcoming book.