I can’t put a finger on when it happened, but I’ve recently found myself drawn to everything owl-related. Maybe I’ve stumbled upon Harry Potter one too many times on cable. Or perhaps I’m moved by the beautiful serenade we seem to receive each night at dusk, from the two owls in the thicket near our Nashville home. Mind you, after twenty minutes of their ongoing vocal warm-up (which, incidentally, drives my Basset Hound bonkers), I’m ready for everybody to stuff a sock in it. Regardless, I find my fine-feathered friends to be eerily wonderful. From the Tootsie Pop mascot to the wise character in Winnie-the-Pooh, color me enchanted. In retrospect, I suppose owls also remind me of my favorite time of the year… fall. Having grown up in a quaint town in Connecticut surrounded by woods, I recall crisp, brisk evenings listening to hoots and howls emanating from the trees, and watching the motley foliage begin to blanket the countryside. Owls were the anchor of my childhood autumnal landscape, and I guess I’m a bit wistful about it. I am reminded of raking leaves the color of fire into a pile beneath our old wooden swing; I would while away the mid-afternoon hours by hurling myself into it until I was breathless. Memories of caramel apples and hot cider abound. My nights were equally magical… I loved huddling under my comforter during thunderstorms, flashlight in hand, ensconced in my favorite Nancy Drew Novel. And all the while, the owls kept up their string of prose outside of my window.
I know owls sometimes get a bad reputation. Not so long ago, a dear friend of mine was walking her dachshund and, claws extended, an owl nearly pried that little dog from the pavement and made off with him. Admittedly, I might have changed my tune had I been present for that incident. That said, I wasn’t there, and the owls near our home have been nothing but polite. I’d like to think we have somewhat of an understanding. I’d like to think we admire one another from afar.
So what on earth does my pontificating about owls have to do with motherhood, you ask? I’m asking myself the same thing. To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure it has anything to do with it whatsoever. My daughter will, however, be growing up with some fun little owl-adorned toys and clothes to look back on because of my infatuation!
Until next time… Peace, Love, & Dirty Diapers,
Jenna von Oy
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