I’ve been needing to switch out the wreath on our front door for a long time now. I’ve been meaning to do it, really I have. The final impetus came when Josh, who rarely if ever comments on my wreath art, casually and tactfully suggested that maybe it was time for a new look. So today as I was pushing the stroller through the front door after our afternoon walk, I grabbed the whole wreath, including the wreath hanger, and propped it up against the wall inside while I pulled Hannah out of her seat. It was then that I noticed there was something amiss. Along the back edge of the wreath was a tiny birds nest that I had not put there. And the nest was full of tiny light blue eggs. If I didn’t know better, I would have taken them for Easter candies.
What to do? I certainly don’t want a bird family living on my front door. That’s just asking for trouble of the sort commonly caused when birds use one’s front door as a commode, and/or get loose in one’s domicile. On the other hand, I couldn’t just trash the eggs. So I took all the decorations off of the wreath and hung it around one of our outside lights on the side of the garage. I noticed the parent birds swooping around the house and hope they found their kiddos.
Josh hopes so too, but is also concerned that we now look like trashy people who keep their Christmas decorations up year ’round. Worse, it’s only one wreath, so it looks doubly stupid. I agree, but I’m still hoping the bird family makes it. I’ll check tomorrow.
By the way, in case Mr. and Mrs. Birdie have not named their progeny, I have taken it upon myself to bestow monikers on their five eggs. Below you can see the first family portrait of Anastasia, Horace, Murgatroyd, Philippa, and Billyboy.