JOY ALONG THE WAY: CURRENT SHOWINGS IN OUTDOOR THEATER

There are three noticeable things going on in my Eden theater right now. A robin, building a nest in the big oak tree, is nipping pieces out of my tall white irises and flying them up to incorporate into her fresh new nursery-to-be.

I wonder what is going on in her mind. Does she think they'll stay white? Will she be disappointed when they wilt and turn brown? I've noticed that many birds like something white in their nests, white feathers being the most common. With no chickens around here, these white feathers must be hard to come by. Yet, I find them there when I clean out bird houses or examine a nest that has been storm-tossed from a tree.

I believe it was Hal Borland, the naturalist, who observed the building of many bird nests and concluded that quite often the last thing a bird brings to the construction of a nest is a white feather which is fastened into the outside of the nest. He suggests that it makes the nest easier to see. Somewhat like a porch light left on, I suppose. I wish that my robins would find a weatherproof white feather instead of a quick wilting white iris petal.

I tuck away in my mind that when the fair comes next September I'm going to go to the chicken display and gather small white feathers that some chickens discard during their cage days. Next spring I'll scatter some around the yard, in defense of my tall white beauties.

The second play now showing is a pair of flickers trying to make a hole in an existing bird house bigger to accomodate them. When I had to remove the big cedars, I left the trunk of one standing, about ten feet tall. It was immediately behind my latticed garden seat and I thought to top it with a two storey birdhouse. It was a happy decorative thought but nothing remarkable has chosen it for a home.

I wish I could speak flickerese. I would tell the handsome birds that the birdhouse is not a part of the tree trunk, that if they do succeed in making the hole bigger to accomodate their bodies, the house will not be big enough inside. I could remove this house and put up a bona fide flicker house, but that would require hiring a workman and most workmen aren't interested in such a small undertaking. So, I'll let the flickers drill away at the old house until they decide it is a losing effort.

I can't see the third thing going on, only the results. But it is the profoundest of all spring profundities. It doesn't make a noise. If it did, either a high pitched screeching or the softest of hums, it would drive man crazy with its pervasiveness, for it works twenty-four hours a day. It is supremely beneficent. In fact, mankind would eventually disappear if it didn't happen.

The name of the process, when pronounced, sounds a bit as if one is lisping. It is photosynthesis, the process by which sunlight helps green plants to make carbohydrates out of carbon dioxide and water and release good, breathable oxygen. It is such an extremely complex process that to this day baffles scientists. So who am I to try to explain it? I only know that it goes on, silently, all around us. A God thing.

REJOICE!