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A few years ago, on a spring day, a petite woman wearing a breezy white cotton skirt and top joined our writing class. She wore a long gold necklace with a tiny charm of a green-enameled hummingbird in flight. In her lap, she held a stack of small, recycled tan paper journals. When it was her turn to read her journal entry, she told a story of the joy and sadness she found in seeing part of a tiny, blue, broken robin’s egg on the sidewalk a few blocks from her home.

We were so engrossed in her story that we listened like children do, wide-eyed and speechless. We were all there with her looking at this tiny egg lying on the uneven concrete. She described to us what it meant for her to find it, all the beauty and anxiety she had felt. When she was finished reading, there was a long silence and then we all took a deep breath. It was a spiritual moment for us because we had connected with nature through her story.

A few days ago, while walking my dog in a park, I was reminded of her when I saw a cracked blue robin’s egg lying in freshly cut grass. I bent down closer to inspect it and was mesmerized by its color, almost like the blue in a baby’s eyes but deeper. It was the blue of nature.
Every time this earthy woman came to our class she had more stories to tell of the natural world and because of her insights, I now appreciate nature more deeply.

As I sit here remembering her, a ruby-throated hummingbird is sipping out of our bright red backyard feeder. I’ve learned that it’s the tiniest bird on earth and I’m endlessly amazed when I see one hovering in flight.

I’ve read that their eggs are the size of a pea. I would love to see a hummingbird’s nest, eggs intact and waiting to hatch, but for now I’m happy just seeing this one tiny bird with its radiant wings beating endless times per second.

Robin's Eggs