All through February I watched the blue jays build a nest. First, with thin twigs of eucalyptus plucked from the back lot, and then, tufts of palm fluff and long webby clumps of fur from our collie’s undercoat. They took their time, placing a stick here, some fuzz there, removing it and trying again. Sometimes construction materials were passed, beak to beak, in deference or delegation, for proper placement. I couldn’t believe my luck as I sat watching them every morning from a swivel stool at the tall glass table sipping tea. The only thing between the birds and myself was a single hung window, and then, the sparse branches of a four-foot boxwood bush nestled up against it.
It was still wintery in the yard and we hadn’t been outside much for a couple months. Due to an unfortunate accident, our normally wandering cat was recovering inside for six weeks of stitches and begrudgingly-us