I remembered to water my plants before I left for work this morning.  The heat and my  neglect have had a negative impact.

One of my planters (a tall, wrought iron stand with red geraniums, sweet potato vine, and coleus) had a suspicious looking mess: pine needles, dead leaves, etc.  I wondered, "What has fallen off the roof and into my planter?"

Upon closer inspection, it's there on purpose. It's a bird's nest.  With three tiny, white, speckled eggs. 

I'm charmed.  Even though I  know from experience (birds nested in my hanging baskets in Caledonia) that my planter will have nasty bird droppings in/on/around it and my flowers will be adversely impacted by my caution in watering, I *love* the idea of a mama bird raising babies basically on my front steps.  Somehow it makes me feel honored, as though we were somehow deemed suitable neighbors for the youngsters.

At least we don't have cats. 



This is sort of what our nest looks like, though not nearly as tidy, and ours really resembles a tunnel nest on its side, rather than a bowl-shaped abode.  Via Kate McKinnon 's blog.