The house wren rules the backyard and sings his presence no matter what else is happening. Several days ago, I was mowing around the garden while a guy on a backhoe was digging up earth in the neighbor’s yard. Noise reached fairly high decibals. Yet, above all of that, I heard the wren singing as loudly as he could, as if declaring he would not be outdone or frightened away. He stood his ground.
Several days later, two of my best friends showed up unexpectedly at the same time in the back yard. We had all worked together previously, and it was a joy to sit and visit for more than an hour under the willow oak–something we probably wouldn’t have taken time for pre-COVID. The wren serenaded us as we sat there.
In the afternoon, to the music of the wren, I planted cream and sugar corn, and lazy wife beans in my garden before the evening rain showers came to dampen the soil.
Sometimes I worry as I listen to news of both peaceful and violent protests against police brutality, and I pray that, like the wren, we citizens will not be silent—that our beleaguered country will be forced to find a way to provide more justice for all.