people give me nests. sometimes they  find them on the ground following a bad storm. sometimes they pry them from the crotch of a grape vine stump during the grape harvest. sometimes they rescue them from an urban shrubbery about to be pruned. and this year in particular, they plucked them from the fallen branches of snow-snapped trees. i love receiving these gifts. they often arrive on my doorstep in leftover boxes. i can recognize them before i even get out of the car–a clearly recycled open topped box placed just-so beside the front door. please keep them coming.

a precarious stack of gifted bird nests

all from minnesota, usa or languedoc, france