Crape myrtle
The crape myrtle at the end of the driveway is at its peak for your birthday, Lizziebrod. I wish I could give it to you as a gift.
One hot summer, a cardinal raised her family there. She seemed annoyed whenever I would check on the progress of her brood.
This week I noticed the twiggy nest of a brown thrasher in the holly tree. The babies stretched their skinny necks helplessly into the air, while the thrasher chirped a warning from her post nearby. When I went to check on them the next day, the nest was empty.
This week I noticed the twiggy nest of a brown thrasher in the holly tree. The babies stretched their skinny necks helplessly into the air, while the thrasher chirped a warning from her post nearby. When I went to check on them the next day, the nest was empty.
I hope I am the first to say happy birthday to the crazy bird lady of St. Louis.
posted by Meg at
7:07 AM
2 Comments:
A little bird built a nest behind my condo-neighbor's outdoor light fixture. I enjoyed watching it sit complacently on its nest. One morning I stepped out to find the nest on the sidewalk, eggs mashed on the concrete. I was so sad. Life in the city is hard.
Thanks for the birthday gift, Meg. Your crepe myrtle is beautiful and so large! I have one too that only grows about 4 feet tall each year, tops. I call it George H., because my friend gave it to me when Dad died. I used to refer to it as the "Papa bush" but that evolved into George H., esp. fitting since Dad used to get told he looked like our former prez.
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