Magpies are often drawn to my garden. Rarely just one (for sorrow). Usually two (for joy). Or three or four (for a girl or a boy). Occasionally there have been five or six (for silver or gold). But never more. Never seven (to remind me of the secret never to be told).
Until today. The 28th of December 2021. When I’m sitting in my chair looking out over the garden. Contemplating the year to come. And the magpies come to give me a sign.
Separately they arrive. To perch on the twig-like branches of the bare blossom tree. One comes. Then another lands causing the tree to shake and bounce. And they all hop from one branch to the next, until satisfied with their new configuration across the tree. Until back in perfect balance.
Just as I’m wondering what wishes will be granted during 2022 (eight) and what kisses will come my way (nine), number 10 arrives. The bird I must not miss.
What is this bird I must I not miss? I look her up.
She is here to embolden me to follow my own path. To recognise unforeseen opportunities. And to relish them.
A new year message to me from the magpies.