Yesterday I walked around the garden barefoot. The sun shone from a bright blue sky. The pleasure of taking your socks off again is unbeatable. I smoked some weed. I cut a bouquet from the giant rosemary. I swept away nature's mess after the storm. Then I heard it. The nursery! The beep, the chatter, the life of spring! And I remembered what the previous owner of the house told me when we signed the papers in October; don't forget to close the door to the rooms under the house, otherwise the swallows will move in and dirty it. And I remember thinking that if the swallows stay in my house, I must be the happiest person in the world. In addition, there are some cats here that need to be sheltered during the winter, I thought. We who live here in the primeval forest must help each other. If only one cat has been sheltered from the cold and wind in my secret rooms under the house, then my heart rejoices. So the door has been open all winter. And yesterday, a sunny Sunday, the eggs hatched and life emerged from the mud and twigs. Mother swallow and father swallow flew in and out in their eagerness to feed the little ones who loudly showed their displeasure with a tawdry breakfast buffet.
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Spring ♥️ m.