 One July 9, we were in Rome, right near the Via Veneto, with our three little children, one of whom had a birthday. My wife found a cake and some candles and borrowed the roof garden of the hotel for a little party.
My wife has taught the children a love of music and art and poetry and cooking and family. I taught them how to say, “Tre gelati, per favore,” so they could walk down the Via to an ice-cream stand and order their favorite flavor. Today is Corinna V. Wilson’s birthday; her family is fussing over her in Pennsylvania. I went out on the deck of our family home on Long Island and looked at the empty nest discreetly hidden on a branch. A few weeks ago, the nest held three blue eggs, guarded by the mother. Then there were three wide beaks, waiting for her to get back from our front lawn, where she had discovered a stash of meals. For a few days, the three birds were flying at low altitude, watching their mother forage. Now they are full size, and they flit and feed and sing. Happy Birthday.
7 Comments
Mendel
7/9/2017 02:32:57 pm
"For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing is come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land."
Wally Schwartz
7/9/2017 08:30:22 pm
Corinna and George,
George Vecsey
7/9/2017 10:04:39 pm
The rabbi and the judge. What an honor. GV 7/11/2017 01:19:51 am
Thoughts for the parents of an empty L.I. nest on a baby bird's birthday. A mango gelato for me, please.
G
7/12/2017 09:56:17 am
Shalom, Hillel:
bruce
7/13/2017 06:26:16 pm
george, 7/16/2017 08:10:13 pm
George, Leave a Reply. |
