I had the most sublime moment the other day, watching a scene take place right outside my kitchen window, serving as a brilliant example of how truly ironic nature can be.
The cushions of our lawn-chairs have been partially covered by a cut-up piece of blanket, because the cats shed and their furr cover the niceness of our cushions otherwise, and upon one of the blankets was a little sparrow, jumping about, collecting furr in her beak to use as lining for her nest. I found this absolutely marvellous. Her chicks will hatch into a nest lined with the furr of one of the more serious predators they're bound to encounter, once they're airborne. If that isn't irony at its most beautiful, then I don't know what is.
:)
x's
Annie.
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