Attracting flights of robins to the Santa Cruz Mountains, the sweet reddish-orange berries of the Pacific madrone, ripening to fullness in December and January, fall abundantly to the forest floor.
The exuberant birdsong contrasts sharply with the season’s cold, wet days. At intervals, when rains stop and clouds scatter, a patch of robin-egg-blue sky appears for an hour or so along with the sun.
How warm it feels! But, I am too busy hustling and bustling, busy with things-that-need-to-be-done to take a break, take a chair, and take a minute to enjoy it.
Not so for the robin. Atop lofty amber, he perches very still, swells his red breast, and relishes this gifted moment amid feasting as if it would last an eternity. Indeed, he is the wiser of us.
