Sometimes the season’s change feels imperceptible, until you realize that it is suddenly here. It is that moment when you look out the window and see green buds on the trees where there were only bare branches or a carpet of fallen leaves where there once was grass. It happens for me each year as we move from autumn into winter and I see the goldfinches in the backyard displaced by juncos. I love the late summer antics of the goldfinches—their erratic flight through the garden, perching on the spent remains of our coneflower and black-eyed susans, their sudden burst of flight as I enter the back gate, a flash of bright yellow against the dark greens and russets of our September garden. Then, at some point in late October I recognize a change in the music of the garden, look out the window and see not yellow, but grey–the juncos have taken over the yard. These little birds are the tenacious harbingers of winter. Their rugged nature keeps them in my yard all winter, roosting in the rhododendron, puffed up against the cold. They seem to survive through an act of will and instinct and brighten our winter days with their jaunty faces. There are other winter birds—the flashy cardinal, the noisy chickadee, solitary nuthatches—but like the goldfinches in the summer, the juncos are my favorite winter bird. Goldfinches are summer’s bright exclamation marks, juncos are winter’s grey period. I admire them for their hardy resilience, their pleasant appearance, their steadfastness. I guess that vitality and perseverance are innate to these birds and that’s what I admire in them.
I’ve written much this year about hardship, overcoming it, facing it. It has been a tough year, no doubt about it. Especially for Ally, who has been directly burdened with much of our misfortune—pneumonia in February, hair loss in April (from the stress of the pneumonia), concussion from the accident in July and the subsequent loss of her field hockey season to that injury, and the sudden, heartbreaking death of a classmate and friend from her nursery-school days in November. What a year…
And yet she remains optimistic, well-balanced, good-humored. Her resilience in the face of all of this reminds me of my favorite juncos. As we move through fall and into winter, she is in high anticipation of her favorite holiday. If we allowed it, Ally would play Christmas music year-round. She knows all of the tunes—modern renditions, traditional carols, and vintage standards—she loves them, sings them, infects all of us with her spirit and enjoyment. Her enthusiasm is indicative of her nature, her charm. Though she is concerned with issues of justice and integrity, she is wickedly funny and droll—poking fun at herself as much as the rest of us. Though she is often anxious, she is the first to remark on our considerable good fortune, often admonishing us, “choose your attitude.” A good friend, sister, cousin, daughter who doesn’t shy away from telling the truth, but always offers support and loyalty—a trusted confidant, thoughtful and caring. She smiled and joked through hospitalization and hair loss and concussion, graciously thanking the many people along the way who made her troubles a little easier. Just as the juncos, I think it is her nature to be cheerful and resilient. How lucky for her and for us?
As for the coming holiday, Ally enjoys the anticipation as much as anything, so my wish for her is a long countdown filled with all of her favorite songs.