No Small Thing

After a long stretch of days with my husband at work for 12-hour overnight tours and the kids and I staying awake until the wee hours because sleep eluded us, it felt great to get back on schedule. A few days off did my husband good and with all of us finally home we were able to return to the routine of waking early and getting things done. Well, at least I was. The kids not so much. I gave the guy a break and let him catch up on much-needed sleep. But on this particular day, we planned to be productive. The list is long when you own property and livestock and have far too many hobbies. Our focus was on finishing the fence around the butterfly garden, reclaiming the vegetable one, and adding equipment to the shop. I busied myself in the garden while he scratched his head in the embroidery shop trying to mentally reconfigure the space for the delivery of yet another machine. This one will be for sewing leather so his newly perfected skill can be added to our little business. In anticipation of the delivery, I decided to continue my work in the vegetable garden so I could keep an eye out for a large box truck. I didn’t mind the wait since I had a lot of catching up to do.

You see about two weeks ago my visions of abundance were quickly lost when I noticed a woodchuck family enjoying the plot. They managed to dig a tunnel that landed them smack in the middle of my tomato patch. I didn’t realize that they were helping themselves to the garden’s young seedlings and sown seeds until it was too late. I filled in the holes with rocks hoping that it would deter them long enough for me to trap and relocate them. (Apparently, they also found a cozy spot under the chicken coop as well as the potting shed. This is what I get for no longer owning a dog.) As I was taking inventory I noticed that a fair number of seeds did not germinate and an even greater amount of weeds were quickly filling in the rows. Instead of giving in to my despair, I decided to make the best of what was left by transplanting stragglers and pulling weeds. All is not lost when you have a backup plan. There is plenty of space that can be utilized for some late-season crops. This day was dedicated to getting things done. With sleeves rolled up, tools at the ready, and one eye on the driveway I worked in relative silence since apparently the resident House Wrens found my presence disturbing. If you have never been serenaded or chided by one, then you are missing out. I am always amazed by the set of pipes on this little bird.

Hanging in the garden is an old birdhouse made out of a recycled coffee can and wood scraps. My husband and daughter made it when she was just a toddler. Once it was constructed, Hannah painted in a style that only a 2-year-old can master. Each year a pair of House Wrens occupies the house to raise some young and every summer I marvel at their tenacity, teamwork, and vocal stylings. It’s entertaining to watch as the male who built several nests out of twigs tries to woo a potential mate. Once she chooses the summer home that best suits her she begins to lay a clutch of eggs. Both parents tend to their young until it is time for them to leave the nest and settle within the neighboring shrubs. The fledglings will be cared for by their parents for another two weeks while they gain the strength to go off on their own. Often Papa Wren will solely tend to these youngins while Mama Wren sits on a new clutch of eggs. Somehow these petite brown birds manage to co-parent and protect their territory all while singing the most cheery song. This is no small thing and I can’t help but admire them.

Now if you have read previous posts of mine then you know that I am a big believer in signs and I’m sure you realize that the significance of the Wrens was not lost on me. This passerine is a very symbolic bird for both its behavior and vocalizations. Their songs may have inspired bards and poets but they can influence anyone fortunate enough to hear their melodies and see their agile tiny bodies. Wrens represent qualities such as friendliness, sharing, activity, creativity, and determination, as well as being light-hearted and free-spirited. These are characteristics that all of us should certainly desire to possess. I appreciate having them during these days of political and social unrest that up until recently included extra worrisome nights (but such is the life of a cop’s wife).

It is believed that if a wren appears before you that it is trying to inspire and motivate you into making your dreams into a reality while also accepting the things that cannot be changed. Message received loud and clear. The two of us were just discussing how his retirement is just two years away and how staying on the job until the end will mean so much for our family. Then he will be able to see his 70-mile commute become reduced to a few yards walk to our workshop. We plan to turn our little creative side hustle of screen printing and embroidery (and soon leather work) into a sustainable business. Oh, the things we can make while living a life of artistic freedom.

As I was daydreaming about the not-so-far-off future, the backup beeping of a truck returned me to the present. I called for my husband and we both made our way to the driveway for the 200-pound delivery that would require teamwork to get it into the shop. I arrived first and when the truck came to a halt, I was pleasantly surprised when out of the driver’s side hopped a familiar face; one I had not seen for at least a decade. The two of us smiled in recognition of each other and if it was a different time I may have even given this man the warmest of hugs because just a few days before I was talking about him. Now that is a lasting impression!

Below the faded ball cap was the same smiling blue eyes and mischievous grin. In a thick accent, he asked if I remembered him and I immediately responded with “Of course! I was just talking about you.” With that, my husband approached and the driver told him about the time he delivered our first embroidery machine ten years ago. I remember that day well. It was cold and raining and I was home alone with a then 4-year-old Logan. The machine was heavy and in a wooden crate. Any other person might have left it on the driveway but this man of diminutive stature used his rolling pallet jack to drag the load to the covered porch for me. As I signed for the delivery he commented on the beauty of my place and how he loved seeing my free-range animals. He told me about growing up in Greece, his love of fresh food, and how he and his family came to live in NY. I packaged up a few dozen eggs and with great appreciation sent one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met on his way.

Now after all these years this same man was standing before us. As he was regaling my husband with stories and unloading our heavy-duty sewing machine I headed into the house to grab a carton of fresh eggs. I returned to hear the rest of the conversation. He was telling my husband about how proud he is of his son for just graduating college with honors and his son’s deep desire to become a police officer. Here was someone who wanted nothing but the best for his child and was full of pride to see his dreams come true. They discussed current events and politics while he shared his point of view with the humbleness of someone who weighs the information received from all sides. The magnitude of this exchange touched me. I couldn’t help but appreciate the animated conversation between this hard-working man, a Greek immigrant, and my husband the son of Turkish immigrants. He told my husband to stay safe in the city and then expressed his gratefulness for his upstate life saying, “ I love it here. Me, the sky, and God”. We bade him farewell and laughed about the odds that the man, who just a few days prior was brought up in casual conversation, should once again be delivering our latest endeavor.

So for the past few days, I’ve been thinking constantly about that morning. What could have been just an hour of weeding my garden and a few minutes receiving a delivery turned into so much more because I decided to see the significance in all of it. The previous weeks were ones filled with stress, sleepless nights, and a lot of discord. While my husband was dealing with the upset and unrest in the city I was at home keeping my children distracted while attempting to educate myself on everything from civil rights to political propaganda. I read people’s opinions and listened to their concerns and was amazed by the dichotomy between the beliefs of so many of my loved ones. And I found myself somewhere in the middle and quite comfortable being there because, although there is nothing easy about living with conflicting ideals, I have learned that it’s just fine to have them. That’s the beauty of being a free thinker, of having access to information and being able to see the relevance of every argument. There is always more than one side to a story. It just depends on which storyteller you choose to listen to. I’ve decided that all of them are worth hearing whether or not what they have to say resonates with me. I will listen to the harsh words and the pandering because somewhere between the two lies the truth. However, I will not be all consumed by current events because I have dreams that need to be made into reality. I can’t change the world. I probably can’t even change one person’s opinion. Still, I can keep my mind as open as my heart and do my best to raise my kids to be empathetic and honest individuals. And when I begin to doubt my path I will return to that fortuitous morning and remind myself of the simple lesson that I learned from the Wrens and the Greek - There is no such thing as just a small thing because a simple observance, a small act of kindness, and a light heart can make a big difference.

Wren photo by Mehmet Buyukdag IG @thirteennegatives

Big lessons can come from small things. These were in yesterday’s fortune cookies.