That was that

I'm a nature lover.  I enjoy being outside either playing in the dirt, or watching life around me ( giggle and point moments aside)  But there has been a battle raging in my house or around it.  I was valiant and brave but I lost.  I know this and I accept defeat with all the salt and grace I can muster. Dammit.

I have been prepping the bistro for the season.  I still have to paint the porch, but I'll get there.  Regardless, I have been working and gotten quite a bit done.  It looks lovely and it is still one of my favorite spots to sit with friends and relax.

Someone else thought it was warm and inviting too.  She began moving in with a few little things: straw, twine and dryer lint.  I knew she would never get the nest to hold around the base she was using; my chandelier. (It's an adorable little candle chandelier holding eight lights...I know FAHNSAY...shut up you goof) But she was persistent.  I let her give it the ole college try for a day or two.  Then I pulled it down.  "Nope. Sorry Toots, not here in MY bistro." That should have been that.

But it wasn't.  Ohhhh no. That "rockin Robin" decided to try again. Now to confess, her progress was fabulous.  She really was getting the hang of it. Only THIS time she wove a base and to flip me the "folk" (Is that what you call it in the avian world?) she kicked out one of my glass hurricanes. I found it shattered all over my cushions and table. I grumbled, snatched the broom and cleaned it up. ALL of it. And I pulled her ugly house down too. I'll show YOU. I thought and that should have been that.

But it wasn't.  Then she decided to build in my gazebo but higher up.  Near the bees.  Yeah, they build front row seats to our week long "Extreme makeover the Bistro edition" and I mean to tell you that feathered lil itch not only built a friggin duplex up there, but she hired a mason.  I swear see mortar laying in between the pieces of straw and dryer lint. Well she just thought that was that.

But it wasn't.  Not to be outdone by what I now see is a mocking bird.  (Is anyone else sing Alanis Morrisette's "Ironic"?) I scooched my fireplace over.  Just a little; enough to smoke dat witch outta dare unless she had a desire to become ...squab. She ruffled her ticked off feathers at me.  I muttered nasty things to her, proceeded to build a bonfire that could have heated the neighborhood and I dumped FUEL on it.  (If you know me, you know I don't use fuel to start fires) I wasn't pussyfootin around anymore. MY BISTRO! MY SUMMER SPOT! MINE(...pant pant...can you hear the angry clicking as I type? Good thing my blood pressure is under control.) I'd smoke her lilly white arse out from there, tear down her dryer lint abode and reclaim my summer castle.  This was IT!

But it wasn't.  I saw little heads pop up bobbling weakly with hunger.  I heard tiny chirping as I scooched my fireplace back out away from her.  I sat in my chair and watched.  She's a good mommy.

That was that.