One Swallow doesn't Make a Summer . . .

Every Summer I have eleven swallow nests under the gables of my house. I love, love, love them. They eat every mosquito for miles around, and watching them build their nests and raise their chicks is the high light of Summer. Last Summer each pair succesfully hatched no less than three consecutive clutches.

I would be thrilled if they manage to do that again this year!

This morning I realised I am very possessive when it comes to my swallows! I consider them my swallows, who just happen to trek South for the winter. Wouldn't it be funny when somewhere in Africa woman on her farm feels exactly the same as I do?

Isn't it magical how these little birds connect people and places that are thousands of miles away from each other?

Last night I dreamed my swallows had returned for the summer, and I wasn't ready for them. I hadn't prepared the mud pool for their nest's building material and hadn't put the sitting pole up. Even though it's still early days, I prepared my yard for the arrival of my summer friends today.

The dream must have been a sign that they can arrive any day now!