quacker on the roof
♪♫♪♫♪ “If I were a rich duck…” ♫♪♫♪♫
I thought that familiar quack-quacking sound seemed closer than usual. Then I peered out my second-story bedroom window and saw the lovely couple you see above. House hunting, I’m guessing. Because this week is the vernal equinox, and with it comes those nest-building, egg-laying, duckling-hatching days of Spring.
Also, this week, is the bridal shower I’m hosting for my young friend Beth, soon to become the wife of Al’s son Matt. They make a wonderful couple and she’s a stellar addition to this eclectic extended family. (I also have great hope that her persistent political influence will gently nudge him a little more to the left in the years to come, but that’s another matter.) 😉
In prepping things for the shower, I’ve found myself thinking about tradition. How one generation helps the next celebrate and signify what matters. And how those shared experiences become memories we call upon decades later to steady us and send us on.
So, here’s to all the new nests being created this Spring. And to the love that builds them.
“Without our traditons, life would be as shaky as…as…as a fiddler on the roof!”