Knitting a Nest for the Phoebe.

The effects of the windstorm are disappearing because the prairie is resilient and resolute. It has been through this before. It returns to normal. Where else would it go? The dirt and dust have settled. The new corn shoots that had just broken through the ground on that windy day are a foot tall, even though they lost the tips of their first leaves. The strip of brown wheat along the road in the photo below was caused by the wind. Yet this wheat has already headed out and outgrown the damage. It is barely noticeable when you drive by.

Interesting fact: The wind blown dirt kills wheat and corn not by blasting it with abrasive matter. What kills is the static charge built up by the dirt and dust particles being rubbed by the wind across the earth. The wheat was actually electrocuted with high voltage. We say, "That field got fried." It is said that during the Dustbowl era the barbed wire fences, and windmills would become so  statically charged they would shoot large blue arcs of static electricity strong enough to knock a person unconscious.

The Phoebe nest is rebuilt in the the same place, and Maret knit it for them. This may sound impossible, but I'll tell you how she did it:  First, on a beautiful quiet morning she made a pot of coffee. Second, she placed short lengths of wool yarn, and big handfuls of cat and horse hair in the front yard. Then, and this is where her magic and skill became apparent, she learned to use the Phoebes as her knitting needles. They would pick and choose what they needed, and trailing their yarn and hair, they would fly a circuitous and deceptive route through the yard to their nest. I suppose the strange routing is an evolutionary tool to keep from obviously showing the location of the nest. Once there they knit and wove it into a rather soft home. 

Meanwhile, Maret watched, smiling and drinking her coffee, silently directing them, willing them to rebuild and try again.

Comments

[Rachel Kellum]

I don't know what is more beautiful: ned's words, maret sipping, knitting with pheobes, or the soft nest.

[Paleohippie]

the field fried
the phoebes fly
circuitous routes

such static wisdom
running electric
through this