Today I am Writing: On Birds and Bugs

This afternoon a friend was coming over to chat, but, [in the way that things go] neither of us had had time for lunch. Since the day had turned surprisingly non-rainy, I quickly set out the cushions and threw the tablecloth over the table, before going inside to gather up some food.

I wasn't inside long. Long, however, is not what a bird needs to streak a perfectly good tablecloth with a bit of poop. Apparently.

We worked around it, we still sat and ate and enjoyed the cool-ish warm air. As we talked, bugs clattered around us, hitting the table with force, scooting their back legs and fluttering their wings to find some kind of balance. I fingered them over to the side, away from my salad, listening to my friend but slightly distracted.

I have been thinking about birds and bugs lately, because listen:
I love them.

I am utterly fascinated by the variety of bug that sit with me as I read by the pond, exploring the chair with all their wonder of dots and swizzles and color and flame. And I am the first to stop what I'm doing to watch the birds thrumming through the air as I move throughout my yard, to notice their nuances as they sing their song.

But I have been thinking more recently about the fact that though I find bugs and birds to be so glorious, I also find them to be rather...

Irritating.

Perhaps it was the bird who would not cease her incessant chirping at the pitch aimed to make me crazy that one morning. Maybe it was the bug that would not stop insistently flying into my cheekbone as I read on the porch, or the ones that I can't see but am sure are settling into my hair for a long-term vacation from bug reality every time I cross the threshold of my door. Or possibly it was the kingdom of ants who took up residence in my kitchen window plant, in conjunction with the bird who tried to take up residence in my shed and scared me half to death.

I don't know what it was, exactly, but somewhere recently my love story with bugs and birds has shifted to include the not-so-lovely side of their existence. And today, as I wiped and sprayed bird residue off my tablecloth, I thought about how isn't this just true, of all things worth noticing?

There is poop mixed in with singing, there is insistence mixed in with wonder. It is the way of Love.