They are the smallest of seeds. Set with care in a tiny feeder suction-cupped to my kitchen window. How can this offering, a mere handful of slender grains, sustain the frenzied Spring flirting of the
The tree outside my kitchen door has become a symphony of liquid notes from golden throats. They chirp and flutter, voicing the joy of a damp morning in late spring when both buds and finches cannot h
What would you do if, without warning, men came to your home said you must leave, you will leave now, this very moment. stop feeding your children stop making love to your mate stop singing to the daw