in the garden
The robins don’t want the goldfinches on the niger seed dispenser–too close to their nest. A pair of blackbirds, prospecting the thick ivy further along that wall, don’t want them either. The goldfinches enact “puzzled”, “good-natured” & “unprepared to squabble”. They slope off: the dispenser is almost empty anyway. I wonder how the robins, who lost a brood to a squirrel last year, will cope with their own aggression if the blackbirds actually move in. Meanwhile, nearer the back door, all the signs of Spring: some lengths of plastic draught-excluder discarded when Terry from Bristol put in the new back door; the rear wheel from a 1993 Marin Palisades Trail, which C was using to keep squirrels out of her tulip bulbs over the winter; a litter box discarded by the cat as too small. But it’s only when I notice the two bald scrubbing brushes in the corner by the fall pipe that I realise the year is waking up at last.