for Philip Hobsbaum
The propane tank guy ripped out the magnificent Carolina Wren’s nest. So they’re poking under the umbrella leaves of begonias. Hope & grace?
(Carolina Wren nests have an abundance of lichen, mosses, soft leaves, pine needles, paper, gentle twigging: The opening is on the side. Lovely, well, not now when it’s strewn on the ground. Perhaps they’ll recycle some of it in their new nest?)
We may need to put the propane tank guy who cleaned out the neat nest under the tank cover in a Jail for Super Villains. (Luke’s made the label already.)
Chloe and I came upon the Wren Wreckage and just stood there, aghast. I had called the fuel folks and given them a heads up that we had such going on. No problem is what they said. I guess I thought that meant they could fill the tank AND work around the nest. Not so. Next the Carolina Wren calls out JOURNEY JOURNEY JOURNEY and begins again. I take a lesson from this. Our souls may find and grasp hope and grace amidst the violence?