The nest on our front porch keeps getting taller.
This little mother remains hard at work. I'm sure she has several little peepers in there.
She's a diligent little mother.
On a totally different note: my husband found this nest in our garage, above his weed eater machine. He thought it was empty so... (sniff, sniff), he threw it away yesterday.
I looked in the garbage because I love to look at nests and thought it would be better to use it in the compost bin. At first it did look empty. But I found the opening, and to my great sadness, found this little egg.
I cried for the mother and cried for the egg.
I put the nest in the compost bin after looking at the hard work this little mother put into it's creation.
I put the egg among parakeet and cockatiel eggs I kept from previous pets. I still feel sad. I need medication.
When I mentioned yesterday about the out of control wisteria we have in this region, I thought I would try to capture what I mean:
It's pretty but it's everywhere.
But I don't mind. I mean, look at her...
... all concentration. And joy.
Hoping all our efforts bloom
on Whippoorwill Road,