Hanging out with the hummers.
Coming home means hanging out with the hummers. I don’t worry about them when I’m gone. I just miss them. My husband, the actual-factual, logical-biostatistician, said incredulously, “They fly up to me like they missed me.” He’s not used to thinking like this, but he can’t help noticing such obvious birdy behavior. Speaking of birdy […]
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