When doves nest

A dove built a nest in my backyard. It’s not your typical, Disney-cartoon-round nest. It’s a V-shaped hodgepodge, wedged between wood beams and out of sight from predators’ and rain’s reach. Eggs appeared a couple weeks ago. Google says it could be any day when they hatch. The dove just sits on them. So damn patient, that bird.

I bring this up because the dove got me thinking about the power of stillness. Doves, peace, calm—it's not some profound insight or anything. When I was in therapy (not going there), my doctor kept telling me to be more like a dove, to pause and focus on the moment. She called this mindfulness. Apparently, it will help you live longer and be happier. I was into it for a while. But then, life.

While biking past L and Fifth streets last week, however, I stopped for a minute. I breathed, then imagined what the block might be like when that crunched Coors Light can of an arena plops down in a couple years. For some reason, this got me thinking about the sepia-tone (and these days, beleaguered) Hans Sumpf Company art panels on the mall wall. You know, those massive ceramic reliefs on Fifth.

People have actually stuffed garbage into the sculpture's holes, but after four decades at the mall, they're an iconic piece of local milieu. It'd be great to see someone scoop those up before the wrecking ball arrives. Restore them, keep them on display in the central city. When the arena's the hot new thing, maybe a kid will see the art and be inspired to create.

Maybe that will lead to more public art. Maybe a dove will nest in the panel, instead of trash.