about the growing pile of Bluebird poop on my driver's door, this happened.
Early morning. Plunking at the kitchen deck door. Music music.
Once again, I thank myself for my own wisdom when I didn't do as the Domain Manager suggested. Those flock-flying noisome gloriously-blue car-pooping Bluebirds love my berries. The berry bush shall stay right where it is.
May the ripening continue.
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