I just wanted to drop in and remind, nag, and exhort writers to gather words wherever you find them. I woke too early so lounged in bed reading news stories on my iPad. And since I was reading online, a New York Times headline was set amid a film of giant birds gliding and cavorting across a pale gray sky.

Titled “An Expedition, for Art and Nature;” the subtitle-slash-logline is: Each spring, hundreds of thousands of cranes converge in Nebraska. The phenomenon draws in artists, conservationists, and curious friends alike.

Next this luminous opening paragraph appeared followed by a background information: They look like peppercorns ground into the sky and then like black silk or a stain spreading overhead.

Each spring, for close to a million years, hundreds of thousands of sandhill cranes converge on the Platte River Valley in central Nebraska. For roughly a month, the birds rest and refuel on their annual path from the southern United States and Mexico, where they winter, to the Arctic regions of Canada, Alaska, and Siberia, where they breed. Jane Goodall, who tried to make the trip every year to witness the phenomenon, has called it “without a doubt one of the most spectacular events in the natural world.”

Naturally I was hooked.

Birds compared to peppercorns–hats off.

The story goes on to follow a group of friends led by Sheila Berger, a piped piper of sorts who gathered witnesses to the wonder of the giant cranes taking flight. As the story wraps amid a generous photo montage, we learn that in the previous week 736,000 cranes had been counted–the highest number ever. This evening it felt like there must have been at least as many. 

“It’s so meditative,” whispered Rosanne Cash, whom Berger met over 20 years ago through their mutual friend “M.A.S.H.” star Mary Kay Place. “It looks like an etching.” Ms. Cash’s breath was visible in the dark. “If somebody else had said to me, ‘Hey, come to Nebraska to see some cranes–it’s pretty hard to get to and it’s going to be freezing cold,’ I’d say, ‘Nah.’ But because it was Sheila, I didn’t think twice, and then of course it turns out to be so better than you ever dreamed of.”

The world is so, so noisy, distracting, and distressing these days. But you know that.

Some days it feels like small habits and noticing wonder are all that keep me sane. And words ground me, help me describe these strange times and my own joys.

Keep gathering, keep dreaming, have heart