Nesting

  The nesting instinct is real. Lest you doubt, take for example the cardinals in my back yard. (As an aside, I live in an affordable row home in a large North Eastern City, and I have a back yard with trees, I love our realtor). Back to the majestic birds with the deep red plumage preparing nests in our yard. At this time of year the yard is alive with transition.

  The grass is preparing to grow strong and thick, the crocuses are beginning to bloom, and the daffodils are on deck to display their deep yellows. But these grounded changes are slow in comparison to the flittering above the vegetation. The birds are preparing their spaces for the coming brood. Especially busy is the female cardinal. She flies back and forth through the yard collecting material for the nest as her bright red partner keeps a protective eye.

  In her natural habitat the North American Pregnant Spouse (NAPS) is not so different. My wife is one of 10 intimates that are going to add to their brood in the next month or two. And goodness is our house flittering with activity.

  Up to this hour we have; cleaned the car inside and out, built new shelves and subsequently redistributed the contents of the basement, cleared the old growth from the garden, installed new exterior doors, revamped the budget with all the necessary debates and agreements, made a list to track the lists that we will need to complete, packed a bag, assembled the crib, vacuumed with abandon, stocked the freezer, and ordered pizza. It’s been a good morning.

  Like the male cardinal I mostly stood watch and added opinions when needed. I enjoyed the construction in the basement and cleaning the car. But mostly I am here to lift heavy things and give a reassuring nod.