Just now I spotted a nest so low on the branch that I wondered how those hatchlings survived. It is right out the front window in a thicket of flowering bushes and would have been well hidden when there was full foliage. Nevertheless, I thought that the feral cat I feed would have spotted it last summer and had a meal. In this time of year last summer’s nests are visible and they are everywhere. Tiny ones, ones in pouches, slung from branches like pot hammocks and big ones high up. We can think about such things during this time when the Earth is deep in sleep and we can dream of life when she awakens again.
When you live on land rather than cement every season is important and pleasurable. Winter is no longer just something to be endured but filled with quiet to remember and to plan and especially to appreciate.