An uncomfortable rite of spring happened last Saturday. A wayward bird ended up in the firebox of the woodburning stove. Citrus, the big orange tabby, alerted us with his rapt attention to the stove’s glass door. The well-practiced sequence of events: Close all interior doors (pets safely away from the action), draw all the blinds, prop open the back door, and, after a little cool air has flowed in, open the stove door.

Blessedly, thankfully, this little peep popped out, bounced around the floor for a minute, then, catching the breeze, turned to the bright opening and quietly flew out.

We’ve learned to let this almost-annual event unfold on its own. No attempting to grab the bird, no shooing the little peep to the door. Just stand back and let the bird find freedom.

Kind of a reminder from the universe to lay the best path, and then let events play out. Sometimes the best thing is to take it in and look for the small joys.

The other bird? Part of tight-budget living is taking advantage of sales. In November, that’s turkey, so an extra bird or two goes in the freezer. A few months later, a turkey dinner again sounds delicious, and moving the large frozen bird(s) to get anything out of the freezer becomes tedious to the point of aggravation.

So the other bird in this story became a holiday meal. And I took a moment to be grateful for the experiences, enjoying the unfolding of my life.