My Frost peach decided to be a good sport about spring, and one can only wonder how different the two resulting peaches would be. (Usually, though, you thin one out when they’re that close together.)

While I was outside, an Oregon Junco flew to the low power line that connects to the house and turned and stared me down. I laughed. It chirped. I walked a little closer (I wanted to get that Frost’s photo.) It let me know I was under orders to get out of its way, stat.

Just then a female junco flew to the tree nearest its intended mate.

She chirped.

He puffed out his chest to make himself look huge and gave her his voice’s best. I wish I could have heard it but I saw, from really quite close.

I was dismissed. More laughing didn’t faze them, nor my going where I wanted to go (gently, slowly.) This was all about each other by now.

So many birds around. What a difference nine days makes. So grateful to the tree crew that took nesting season as seriously as I did and got that rotting Chinese pepper out the very next morning after I’d asked them so that the scrub jays, the only ones that seemed to like that particular tree, could have time to plan.