A Trusting Goldfinch

I was picking apples in our backyard when I noticed a family of American goldfinches fly into a patch of sunflowers in our garden. A few minutes later, one of the juvenile goldfinches flew up and perched in an elderberry 6 feet away from me. She sat at eye level, making soft contact calls while watching me watch her. She was curious and trusting. I stopped picking apples and slowly turned to face her. Most birds react to this movement by flying away or hopping back into cover. She sat there, twisting her head from side to side, looking right at me.

I could see that some of her feathers were still emerging from their sheaves. This meant she was just a few weeks old, and she was innocent. I realized this was a rare photo opportunity, and I slowly turned and walked into the house to get my camera. When I returned, she was gone. I walked down the garden path and scanned for goldfinches. I was about to give up when I glanced to my right and noticed my new friend perched on our cucumber trellis. She looked around, taking in all the flowers, insects, our small pond, and … me. She eventually flew down into the tart cherry tree and hopped from branch to branch until she was 4 feet away from me and at eye level. She trusted me. I found this to be endearing. It made me even more appreciative of the work we have put into making our yard a haven for birds.

I found her to be incredibly endearing. She was so compelling I stopped taking pictures and focused on enjoying her company. 

At this point, an adult female goldfinch flew into the cherry tree and made a series of loud, strident calls before flying up into the canopy of our peach tree above. I interpreted that as her mother saying, "Danger! Danger! Follow me!" The young goldfinch did not listen. She just sat there looking at me.

She eventually followed her mother, and I returned to apple picking. When I finished with the apples, I noticed that our okra was ready to harvest. Thanks to a roasted okra recipe in the book The Whole Okra, it has become one of our favorite vegetables. We cut the pods in half lengthwise and roast them in a hot oven until brown and crispy. 

I harvested okra to make roasted okra for our extraordinary gentlemen's dinner that evening. We were gathering at a friend's house out in the country. Given the abundance of our summer gardens, it promised to be a spectacular dinner. I knew that a 27-pound watermelon was on the menu.

I picked up my friend after work, and the car quickly filled with the aroma of fresh focaccia bread and roasted cherry tomatoes. We headed south to our friend's property along Kickapoo Creek. We drove past a row of apple trees along the winding driveway. Apples were piled in boxes on the front porch. When we walked back, we found our host roasting cauliflower over a fire. The first thing he said was, "Please, you guys take as many apples as you want."

As more members of our group arrived, the kitchen filled with our summer bounty.

When we sat down to eat, I thought about that trusting little goldfinch and the role trust plays in our group dynamic. We have come to know each other deeply, and this space enabled us to be vulnerable, temporarily minimize our defenses, and experience reciprocity. A space where we could be truly seen and heard and feel that we are held in each other's minds and hearts. 

We talked about our gardens, cooking, the weather, and apples before shifting to talk of Lebanon. One of the guys in the group is from Lebanon, and he gave an update on his family, who live very close to the conflict zone. We listened to him describe their incredibly stressful situation, and then he pivoted and told us how he sent a photo of his beautiful 27-pound watermelon to his dad, who said, "You may have picked it too soon."

Even in a time of war and uncertainty, conversation around food comes naturally, and people are ready to debate the finer points of harvesting watermelons. When you only have a few plants, judging ripeness is an important skill.

I advised my friend on the indicators for a ripe watermelon. We had been watching this melon develop for weeks. I thought the time was right, but you never know until harvest. At some point, you have to have faith in yourself, assume the best, and cut the vine. We had a lot invested in this melon, and all that time, care, and connection made it sweet on many levels.

We all took great delight in the watermelon. I realized that this group's focus on the inherent goodness within each of us is why we all feel nurtured by our time together. Trusting in our goodness and drawing it out of each other is contagious. 

As we sat basking in the glory of the watermelon, dark clouds rolled in from the west, and rain appeared in the distance. This could have dampened our post-dinner hike, but in the spirit of focusing on goodness, we saw it as a gift for the plants and us.

Rain started to fall, and we moved onto the back porch to watch the show. Heavy rain poured down at a 45° angle. We were all mesmerized. The wind picked up, the sun peaked through an opening in the clouds, and thunder boomed off in the distance. When the sunlight hit the flickering cottonwood leaves down by the creek, they turned silver and flashed in the sun.

The rain eventually tapered off, and goldfinches started singing. We walked into the prairie and noticed a rainbow above the tree line. A little farther down the trail, the entire rainbow appeared. We were amazed. None of us could remember seeing a prettier rainbow.

The guy hosting our September dinner said, "I will have a double rainbow at my place."

The dark clouds rolled off to the east, and a bright blue sky appeared in their wake. Our lives encompass this dynamic of light and dark, health and illness, happy and sad, but these are fleeting states of being. Within our group, we are touching into something deeper. We have come to see that we all face challenges, but they do not define us. We are, ultimately, one life. We are the trusting goldfinch, shining rainbow, dark clouds, rain, and wind.

I wish I could show you

When you are lonely or in darkness,

The astonishing light

Of your own being!

Hafiz