As a child during summer break, I would search the neighborhood
for entertainment. However, I never had to go far because the
garden behind our apartment building held wonders of all kinds.
The flowers were off limits. The birds most often imparted wisdom.

One day, I came upon the nest of a Robin Red Breast on the
lower limb of a tree. To my surprise inside were light blue eggs
the likes of which I had never seen. Their color matched the sky
while the grocery store dozen always came in white. The tiny

ovals could fit in my palm, but I knew better than to hold them
lest I interfere with the cycle of life. The thought of them hatching
at any moment made me joyful. Nevertheless, I returned that
same evening to find that some of the robins had died. Their

wings had become stuck in tar that had been applied as a
sealant to the structure. It was another instance of discovery.
I had only seen the birds searching for worms on the lawn
or rising above the rigors of life on the ground. I mourned the

loss of their lives and the flights which would never be taken.
That summer was filled with lessons. That day in particular,
I learned that life and death are never far apart and the reason
that God chose a garden as the home to both good and evil.