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Fly Away Home

The babies have flown the nest.

Well no, not the daughter (yet), but baby birds.

A wee little nest was built under the eaves of our back porch and mama and papa bird have been raising their little ones there for the past few weeks.  The nest is getting mighty crowded with five rapidly-growing baby birds and today they’ve been swooping all around our back yard.  There’s one particularly adventurous little birdie who made it all the way to the back fence yesterday, but today far as I know they’ve all been out of the nest.

It’s been an interesting process; when anyone stepped out the back door for the past few days, mama bird (and possibly papa bird too) did a quick dive-bomb on the head of the intruder.  Nobody got hurt, but my cousin reported getting his hair “buzzed” a couple of times.  And of course, we have birdsong every time you open a window.

This weekend was spent being mostly lazy.  We didn’t do our yard-sale circuit this weekend and probably won’t for at least a couple of more weeks.  Even a cheap date, as it were, is sometimes more than we can do.  Long as I make enough money to keep gas in the car we’ll manage.  And truth be told, I needed the time to physically recuperate.  I feel vastly better today than yesterday, enough so to make beans and cornbread for lunch.  (Trust me – that’s about the fastest thing in the world: wash beans, dump into pan with water, salt, oil, diced ham, and let boil.  Cornbread was a mix: mix, milk, egg, put in oven.)  Dinner is leftovers and sammiches, and since I had to make a quick trip to the grocery store for the beans, I also picked up there wherewithal to make a fast-fix meal tomorrow night.

Both of the men have volunteered to do whatever needs to be done in terms of chopping and such, and my cousin said while he’s not a great cook he would do some cooking if needed.  They’re both stepping up their game since my daughter abdicated, and I very much appreciate it.

In spite of my daughter’s nasty attitude, I find lots to enjoy.  My grandson has discovered the flower pots on the front porch and loves nothing more than watering them.  We have a big tin watering can out on the porch with them.  As long as it’s not over-full he has no problem wielding it with his own brand of finesse.  He does his job – daily if we’ll allow it – and comes to let everyone know he watered the flowers.  He still doesn’t speak with the clarity of an adult but his vocabulary is growing exponentially.  Once his pronunciation skills catch up with his brain, I have a feeling he’ll be a very interesting little guy.

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