Bye bye birdies.

I may have mentioned this on the blob before, or you may have heard me say this in person, but I could see myself getting into bird watching.  I also thought nothing of going out wearing socks with my Sperry’s the other day.  (I’m lying…I did think while I was doing it, and the thought was “why have I never done this before”.)  So I think this might be how people get old.  Regardless, imagine my delight when, about a month ago, I discovered a bird’s nest hidden behind our flowerpots in the corner of our fire escape.  (Don't let me mislead you into imagining a more peaceful scenario than what actually occurred— it was more like I finally understood why some bird was always squawking away in terror (and therefore scaring the crap out of me) whenever I went out to water the plants.) 

Teeny egg and my mint in happier times.

I worried that I had scared mama bird (she was a dove) so many times that she would not come back or would be gone for long enough that the egg would get too cold.  But I should have trusted her.  We eventually established a mutual understanding, in which I could go out to water the plants and she would stay quietly on her nest and watch me.

She is hiding in the corner.

My coworkers warned me that the babies would be loud, but these little doves were very well behaved.  I didn’t even realize they had hatched until one day I saw them peaking out from under their mother.  (I was also surprised there were two of them, but the mom must have popped out another egg after I had quit scaring her…or the birds are twins!)

Dove love.

It seems as if the babies grew exponentially.  The nest quickly got crowded, but mama bird insisted on sitting on her babies until yesterday morning, when we noticed she was gone.  Then, by the afternoon, the babies/perhaps-now-teenagers were gone too.  I have to admit I’m sad to see them all go.  And that I can’t help but think of the whole experience as just another example of how quickly this great circle of life turns.  Also that I am grossed out by how much bird poo is crusted around the nest.

Maybe next year one of them will be back to start a new dove family.  In the meantime…more Elton.

Glory Peep.

Happy Lent, y’all.  I missed getting ashes yesterday because the church in our neighborhood did not have an evening service.  Luckily, Ash Wednesday is not a holy day of obligation, so missing Mass yesterday will not be the reason I go to hell.  This, however, might be:

I am the artist.

Yes, those are stained glass Peep saints.  It’s probably a good thing there aren’t any Christian extremists terrorizing cartoonists around the world for portraying Jesus as a Peep, because a) I would be their next target and b) that would just be silly.  I suppose an explanation is in order, however, for this immaculate peepception. 

For the last few years, my sisters (without me because I was always far away) have participated in the Washington Post’s annual Easter Peeps Diorama contest.  This contest is one of those things out there that makes me believe that people (peeple…) are fundamentally good.  Just google it.  Lots of punny, good, clean fun.  My family’s favorite submission from last year was the finalist “Everyone Peeps.”  (I do think my idea for a “Governor Peep Peepie and the Bridgegate Scandal” diorama would have been a strong contender for the top prize.)

This year, my sisters didn’t think they were going to be able to schedule a weekend to meet and create a Peeps masterpiece.  We did, however, all find ourselves in Williamsburg last weekend to celebrate Erin and Peter’s engagement party and bridal shower…so my mom and Patricia thought, why not combine the wedding and Peeps festivities?  Thus, the “Erin and Peeper Wedding” diorama was born.  We presented it to Erin at the bridal shower on Sunday.  While I think everyone was amused and impressed (as they should have been), I think Peter’s family and friends may have been a little…confused.   

And they lived peepily ever after.