Stay
December 21, 2025
I’m standing at the edge of the lake, just after sunrise. A flock of robins is playing along the shore about thirty yards away to my left. I stand and watch them with amusement as they flit back and forth from the edge of the water to the trees.
I feel the sun rising on my back, surprisingly warm on a single-digit day. The robins are moving closer. I see one dive down in the reeds about ten yards away, but she is still hiding in the shadows.
I notice movement in the nearby bushes to my right. One little bird then another zips in, diving between the branches and then back up to the top. The yellow-rumped warblers have arrived. I am never sure how many there are because they are small and they move so fast, but there must be at least a dozen.
I smile when I see the yellow-rumps arrive, because they seem to be the brave explorers the other birds follow. Right on cue, I see juncos fly in. The juncos like to explore along the ground, bouncing in and out of the tree roots that stick out of the muddy hillside.
The robins have grown in numbers, and many of them are now in the trees right in front of me. I listen to their playful chatter. The chatter of winter is less harmonious than the songs of spring, but it is full of light and joy and community.
Cardinals fly in and out now, too. Most of the year, the males will hide from me behind the leaves, but now, as the leaves fall away, they have to be bold if they want to share in the berry bounty.
A tiny bird flies into what remains of the reeds in the water at my feet. I see it zipping quickly in the shadow just out of clear sight. A ruby-crowned kinglet! I do my best to follow the little bird through my camera lens, hoping he will pop up for a photo.
A second kinglet zips in, and suddenly the first kinglet pops the crown up on his head. I don’t know if this second kinglet is his sweetheart or his adversary. Either way, I’m the lucky recipient who gets to see that bright red crown that is usually hidden.
A Carolina wren jumps up on a nearby bush just as the kinglets fly away. He sings his melodious song in what feels like a serenade just for me. He’s there for maybe 30 seconds when he disappears back into the bushes.
I see another bird munching on some nearby berries and realize the goldfinches have joined the party. They have donned their muted colors for winter, but they are still the embodiment of joy for me.
After an hour, I notice my toes might be getting a little cold. My mind says I should probably get my walk in, and all the things I have to do that day start swirl through my head. I walk about a mile, enough to warm up my toes, until I reach another area of bushes and trees full of robins.
Here, I notice a red-headed woodpecker flying back and forth between the trees. He’s a young male, just starting to get some red feathers on his head. I think, “I really should get going,” but then I hear a wiser voice say, “Stay.”
That wiser voice is quiet and speaks with few words, but she is always right. Stay. I stop and watch. A spotted towhee appears briefly in the bushes, and I hope I got the photo. I’ve only seen a spotted towhee in Missouri three times before.
The purple finches appear for a little while, and then they move on. A golden-crowned kinglet zips through with a whole flock of chickadees. The red-headed woodpecker continues to fly back and forth, and I keep trying to get a better shot. Before I know it, another hour has passed.
Some days the magic feels like it’s “out there”, perhaps out over the lake or somewhere else I can’t see. Other days, it’s closer, but the wind or my noisy mind keeps it just out of reach. Every once in a while, it feels as if I walked through an unseen doorway and stepped right into the middle of the magic.
When I’m in the magic, time disappears. There is color, sound, joy, delight, wonder, awe, and a great swirl of beauty and energy all around. My camera and I are one as we take it all in, and the words, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” and “oh my god, did you see that,” echo on my breath.
I’ve been reminded this week that there are seasons of life where the magic is harder to find. It’s easy to be busy or think I have to get home to write a post or go to work or meet an obligation.
But. When the magic is there, when I’ve stepped into the middle of that swirl, the only thing to do is stay. As long as possible. Stay. It will end, it always ends. Someone will walk by, a hawk will fly through, or my body will truly tell me it’s time to go.
Until that happens, I hope I always remember to Stay.
May the blessings of this solstice find you, hold you, and keep you warm as we cuddle into the rich darkness of this time.
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Bless that inner voice that prompted you to stay (but not so long you froze your toes and fingertips!). Thank you for sharing the beauty of your lake and the sunrises and sunsets, the birds and their personalities. Happy Winter Solstice! As Winter Solstice reminds us, the light always returns....
I am so glad you listened to that wise inner voice!