From wild places to Gathered spaces

For three years, a pair of barn swallows built their nest on our front porch.

Messy? Absolutely. They left mud streaks on the siding and scattered debris below. But we let them be. We watched them build each spring, raise their young, teach fledglings to fly in awkward, beautiful circles around the yard. April became the month we waited for their return.

Then one year, the mess felt like too much. We hung deterrents before they arrived—reflective tape, anything to encourage them elsewhere.

They came back anyway.

They ignored every barrier we put up. They kept building in the same spot, undeterred by our inconvenience. And somewhere in watching their persistence, we took down the deterrents. We let them be again.

We realized something: some things are worth the mess. Some rhythms are worth protecting.

We've been watching ever since—not just barn swallows, but warblers, sparrows, all the migrants marking the turn of seasons. Present in what each season asks. Looking forward to what's coming next.

We don't always get this right. Some weeks we get caught in the hurry and drift away from what we know matters. We stop watching. We rush the work. We forget to notice when the birds return. But those barn swallows—and this work—keep calling us back. Reminding us to be where we are. To honor the season we're in.