I just have to share my husband’s remarkable photos of a female cardinal warming her eggs. We’re having cool weather again today, and she knows she needs to hang out on her nest.
Does the number of speckles mean anything? Are some eggs more inclined to hold females, others males? With all these close-ups, I’m realizing this female’s beautiful, though not as striking as her spouse.
The foliage under the mama’s well-positioned nest is burgeoning. Will we get to witness her feed her babies? I hope so, but her husband flashes by often, and it quite territorial. His calls override the robins in the area, and all others.
Seems to me this little homemaker feels secure next to our tall fence, in an obscure corner of the courtyard that is our back yard.
Confident that all will work out just fine. Content to do her tedious work, knowing that the outcome will satisfy.
I can’t help but compare her attitude to mine as I nurture a new women’s fiction novel to its release into the world. Will it be a cold, cruel world, or a warm, accepting one? Will readers embrace Addie, my World War II heroine, as she struggles with her husband’s anger?
I think this little birdie would say, “You’ve done your research. You’ve bided your time. You’ve re-re-re-re-re-re-re-edited, considered criticism, made changes, taken classes, and secured a professional edit, and now, it’s time.
Our mama cardinal’s steady black eye, her devotion to her babies, and her patience all remind me that daring to bloom holds not simply promise, but challenge. So many have encouraged me along the way. Thanks, Machelle, Jane, Holly, Carolyn, Ann, Julia, Wendi, Bonnie, Diane and Lee, for cheering me on to this point.
And thanks Lance, for working hard to give me the luxury of writing full-time. Readers, Addie’s on her way!