Robin Contest!

Every year we have a contest in our family to see who notices a robin first.  It was my idea to create a fun way of welcoming spring, when our daughters were young.   I would choose the day and announce, "ok everyone, robin contest begins today!"  I actually don't think my husband or daughters pay that much attention to my little game, but they humour me!   The sighting of the first robin is a huge thing for me - like the dove coming back to the ark with the olive branch in his beak.  Oh thank God/dess, there is hope of dry land ahead, hope the waters will abate, hope of something growing somewhere that has leaves, maybe even fruit to eat.  I begin my search for those red breasts in earnest at the beginning of March.  There is usually a struggle that goes along with it, a longing, a frustration, a sure knowing that the robin will return, but not knowing when.  That Canadian I've-had-it-with-winter feeling.

Usually I hear her singing before I can see her.  I look up, around, this way and that and for days we play our game.  I feel competitive about it, annoyed when someone else in the family announces the first sighting.   Her music keeps me searching until one morning - there she is, fat bellied and digging for worms in the back yard, oblivious to the joy her presence has given me.     It's over, winter.  Put away the boots, the heavy coats, tidy up the front closet.  Go out and start planning the new life, think about what to put in the garden.  It's time to buy seeds.

But -(have you noticed that there is a "but" in every experience?) - this year, I missed all that drama.  I didn't even have time to tell my family that the robin contest was beginning.  There was no longing, no frustration, no hearing the music before seeing the singer.  It happened a few nights ago while I was chatting in the driveway with my neighbour.  I wasn't even searching, and there she was, perched quietly on the branch across the driveway.  

Some things in life arrive with great drama, perhaps following a long arduous search, and there are other things that quietly slip in beside us without our knowing that we needed this so so much,  until  in a little moment on an ordinary evening, we look up and see the gift.