Monk

♠
The birds are rebuilding a nest and on the same spot as years past. Funny, they even seem to be using the very outline of the old nest, building exactly on the dirty outline. I think the nest could stand to be another inch lower, but they obviously know what they are doing.

The building is going much slower this year. I wonder if it is because the dirt is too wet after the heavy rains. The are already making the porch dirty, though with only mud splotches so far. Well, 'tis the season.

xXx

♠
Stepping outside with Bo first thing in the morning, Monk's ears are assailed by the squawking of birds, and he looks up and sees waves of them flying overheard. Another first. One supposes that they will start to build that nest at the porch again. Another trip around the circle. To many healthy and happy hatchlings, I guess!

xXx

~
Listening to the baby birdies chirp louder and more incessantly in the chill morning air,
with his first case of foul morning breath in a long while,
Monk now wonders whether it is too cold for the birdies to survive.

But as the morning light dawns, the emotionalism burns off.
Nature is hardy stuff.
.