Monday, 6 June 2016

Everyday tenderness: A phoebe was trying, twice, to build a nest under our porch roof. My husband wanted to discourage this and took the first blade of grass or two away. The phoebe, undaunted, tried again. I, incidentally, wouldn't have minded the nest. Still, I love him, so I suggested to put a wind chime right by the nest construction site, and this seems to be working. On the other hand, I wish I could talk phoebe and explain to the probably frustrated bird that it is welcome anywhere on the 1.7 acres, with plenty of trees and so forth, just not directly by the house. I can imagine what a disappointment it must have been to find this perfect sheltered spot and preparing to build and looking forward to moving in. I can't talk phoebe, so I'll just carry the tenderness.

Incidentally, this is the same husband who spends hours each week feeding the neighborhood birds.

Incidentally, this is the same husband who last night turned on the light in the guest bedroom because he had just rescued a praying mantis from the entrance door mat and placed it on the window screen of said bedroom and thought the light might help attract some winged prey for the big-eyed and probably slightly disoriented praying mantis.

Incidentally, this is the same husband whom I dropped off at the airport today. He will only be gone for five nights, and I am passionately looking forward to my days of solitude. At the same time I already miss him. And so it goes with everyday tenderness.

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