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July 28, 2014

The long line of pines, just off the east corner of the house, are teeming tonight with birds of all sorts. The cats sit on the roof and they are dizzy from sound. I hear robins, and krakaws, and sparrows chattering away. It is, as if, after a long day far afield, they have gathered in this early evening to catch up on gossip and share tales of wonder they have brought back with them. 

Just then a robin alights on the line, its beak stuffed – jammed rather, with twigs, dead grass and bits of small branches. Nest repairs are the order of this robin’s day. And then off it goes around the corner of the house and into the wall of cedars.

You notice, as the sun begins to fall ever closer to the ridge of hills in the west, the chattering slowly begin to wain. With a flutter and slight whir the sparrows all leave en masse – as if on cue and they are off across the top of the trees like a stream of ribbon on a breeze. 

The slight north wind tonight reminds us of the season that is to come – but it is still a month or more away – and so we sit, and scratch our cats on the head, and listen to the fading evening song of the birds as the day slowly fades to night. 

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