The Parable of the Fledglings

*New blooms in the Sunflower Forest this week.

*Tater Tower is a success. We're no threat to the economic stability of Idaho, but our first harvest tonight yielded enough to feed us a meal or two and to encourage another try at growing our own spuds.

*The baby robins have fledged. We kept a respectful distance and watched 'em all fall out of the nest late one afternoon. Numero Uno never actually hit the ground but grabbed a twig and held still as a statue for the the entire twenty or thirty minutes we observed the unfolding drama.

Numero Dos flopped and flapped and landed in a fluffy tuft of grass before he hopped right over to me and asked, "Are you my mother?" (much to Mama Robin's consternation).

"No. How could I be your mother? I am a snort," I said, and Numero Dos quickly hop-hop-hopped away. I was touched and surprised.

Numero Tres wobbled on the edge of the nest and then tried to hop to a nearby twig. He tumbled down to the next level but grabbed a twig there and gathered his ruffled feathers and looked around as if to say, "I meant to do that."

The bravery of the little birdies was fairly inspiring.

A little later I found myself a wee bit depressed.

Because, dang-it, they grow up so darn fast!

Stoopid empty nest.

Ah, me.

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all, Helen Keller said.

I guess sometimes you have to risk falling in order to learn to fly.

This post was titled "Farm Report" when I started, but I see now that it needs a different title, so I'll just fix that and press PUBLISH.

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