We've just celebrated our son's twelfth birthday. Our fledgling. Old enough to be independant and yet still begging to be fed every half hour or so. We had a BBQ in grandma and grandpa's garden while hummingbirds filled up on nectar from monarda, jasmine, clematis and fuschias.
I am currently very sympathetic to the fledgling birds that one finds at this time of the year. They are so vulnerable, just like that awkward stage of the preteen. The neighbor's cat caught and munched on an adolescent sparrow in our back yard. I am currently feeding a fledgling pigeon under the porch. Pigemon is too big for the cat to take on, but he is still young enough to peep instead of coo. The other day I noticed a bumble bee flying into a hole under his water dish. Bird, bee and cat live happily together in the ecosystem of our back porch.
I love watching my son and his peers engaging in critical dialogue, forming political oppinions and then being absolutely silly with one another. Goofballs.
(Have I mentioned how much I am enjoying astrantia this year? The perennials are long-blooming and seem to attract the interest of many insects.)
Due to concerns about the recent revelations of the cost of sugar to the health of Canadian citizens this year you are getting a birthday salad in lieu of a cake.
But since the health benefits of chocolate, dairy and fresh raspberries outweigh the damage of sugar, we came up with a compromise of sorts. Happy birthday my fledgling, my love.
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