Every year, the doves appear in the spring.
They add new sticks to their flimsy nests
And set up housekeeping for another season.
They built shabby nests under the eaves at the entrances to both of our houses.
Every year, the nests grow bigger with the addition of new building materials.
And, every year they lay their eggs and raise their young in the old nests.
They visited the garden and sunned themselves on the roof of the pergola.
I could never photograph them through the screens.
If I opened the door, they flew away.
I had to be content simply to watch them.
The Carolina Trumpet Vine started to fail as Romero said it would.
It must be removed from the pergola. Cut back to the ground.
Without the myriad sizes of branches for perches,
The doves stopped sitting there to sun themselves.
I missed them.
One day, I glimpsed them through the window at Cheeky’s cage.
I could hardly believe they had chosen that spot for their afternoon sun bath.
So close, again behind the blind.
Without much hope of capturing them, I grabbed the camera
And stuck the lens through the opening in the blind.
And started frantically clicking the shutter.
They return every afternoon to the same spot on the fence outside the window.
I am always delighted to see them there.
On some days, the wind ruffles their feathers.
But, they return.
And I smile to see them again.
And cannot resist another click or two of the shutter.