So, you get kicked out of the nest, right? Luckily, there are cherry trees. You can hide.
Robin Fledgling Without a Nest to Go To
You can wait there for the world to make sense. Then you can eat it.
Cherries Growing from a Pit a Walker Spat Out 20 Years Ago
Fortunately, this all happens at the same time. Meanwhile, though, it’s scary out there.
When you have no nest, a cherry tree is a nest. Simple. Profound. It used to be that cherry trees were nests for our fledgling children. Not any more, but it wouldn’t be so hard to start the tradition again.
This post reminded me of one of my favorite bits of T. S. Eliot, from “Little Gidding”:
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
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