I found this lovely quote in Dwellings: a spiritual history of the living world by Linda Hogan.
“It was in early February, during the mating season of the great horned owls. It was dusk, and I hiked up the back of a mountain to where I’d heard the owls a year before… I was halfway up the trail when I found a soft, round nest. It had fallen from one of the barest-branched trees. It was a delicate nest, woven together of feathers, sage and strands of wild grass. Holding it in my hand in the rosy twilight, I noticed that a blue thread was entwined with the other gatherings there. I pulled at the thread a little, and then I recognized it. It was a thread from one of my skirts. It was blue cotton. It was the unmistakable color and shape of a pattern I knew. I like it, that a thread of my life was in an abandoned nest, one that had held eggs and new life. I took the nest home. At home, I held it to the light and looked more closely. There, to my surprise, nestled into the grey-green sage, was a gnarl of black hair. It was also unmistakable. It was my daughter’s hair, cleaned from a brush and picked up out in the sun beneath the maple tree, or the pit cherry where birds eat from the overladen, fertile branches until only the seeds remain on the trees”. (pp. 123-124)
Life is a sharing, a giving and taking. Our discards make the stuff of others’ homes;and their homes make the stuff of our dreams. And it all happens best in the spaces where people and nature can thrive in the presence of each other.