This post originally appeared on my personal blog.
This morning a couple of scrub jays spent a good hour or two in the holly tree that hangs over the fence, screeching with unrestrained enthusiasm. Usually this neighborhood belongs to the crows, but this morning they were nowhere to be found, perhaps laying low until the annoying visitors moved to another block. The chickadees, on the other hand, continued their usual sedate chorus, unperturbed by the noisy interlopers. Perhaps the jays were messengers from spirit: sing your song, loud and proud, no matter how you sound.
The plants seem to be listening, and clamoring for attention. From these delicious nasturtiums with foliage that looks like it was spattered with a painters brush,