Small Miracles
Hello hello!
For those of you who have followed my loss journey over the last six months, I have some updates.
A few weeks ago, our landlord redid the roof of our house. Unfortunately the roofers she chose were quite careless and dumped a majority of the shingles and debris on my raised garden beds, completely destroying my corn, tomato, watermelon, and cucumber plants. See right side of photo for evidence that my raised beds even existed at all under all that debris. It was so heartbreaking at the time that I wasn’t ready to share it with you here.
No sooner had the roofers finished than our next door neighbor decided to completely remove a large tree that overhung our yard. In combination with Peep’s passing, and the destruction of my beloved food garden, this felt like a constant loss of green things over the last few months.
BUT.
The day after the tree was removed, and our yard was finally free of hammering and sawing, I received a tiny miracle. All day I had worked in the yard, cleaning up debris, triaging parts of the landscaping that the roofers had wrecked, and starting to remove the tainted soil from my raised beds. In the fading golden light, I walked up to our balcony to put my tools away. As I climbed the stairs, I heard a flutter of wings. A flock of ten red-crowned Amazon parrots had landed on the power lines that just yesterday had been tangled in my neighbor’s tree.
Flocks of wild parrots are fairly common in Los Angeles and our neighborhood, but they had never come to our yard before. I was shocked. I started speaking to them in the same sweet, high pitched tones I used when I spoke to Peep and watched in amazement as they turned their heads to look at me. Then, one by one, they fluttered closer to land in the persimmon tree that abuts our balcony.
I walked to the railing with tears running down my cheeks. The parrots croaked and ruffled their feathers as they listened and used their beaks to pull apart the orange persimmon flesh. I stood in reverence for these beautiful, wild creatures that were gracing me with their presence and attention for what felt like hours but was probably only a handful of minutes. It reminded me of how miraculous it felt when Peep would fly across the house to find me, land on my hand or shoulder and turn his head on an angle to request a gentle tickle under his chin.
This wild parrot visit was one of the most spectacular moments of my life. It was one of the few moments that has felt like hope in this year of great green loss.
Learn more about the wild parrots of Los Angeles here: