Relating to spring

otice anything different about this tree? It grows on the east side of our church. I pass it almost daily, but didn't see it's uniqueness until someone pointed it out. Typical. I wonder what else I miss when I'm not really looking. Look again. It's blooming on only one side. Split right down the middle, perfectly. Only halfway embracing the inevitable change of spring. Halfway ready to accept the next phase which requires more work. More water. More sunlight. There is a bright side to everything. I can relate.

Sleeping with the windows open is one of the best things about spring. But it comes with a trade off which is the 5:00 am serenading of one hundred and fourteen thousand eager, twitterpated birds. Every morning I wake up to their happy little over-achieving chirping and for a fraction of a second I wish I owned a bb gun. I'm getting used to them now, and actually enjoy being sung out of bed by their glee club.
Except for this one bird.
There is one bird who is throwing the whole choir off. He only know two notes, which he holds for exactly two counts each, and repeats endlessly and louder than all the other birds. As we laid in bed the other morning and listened to him whine, BD tried to coach the young hopeful. Listen buddy, you've got to change it up a bit. The ladies aren't going to respond to that. I've decided not to take pity on this poor bird. Nobody needs that.
Last night I learned that this same bird has been noticed by other neighbors who have the same complaints as we do. He's clearly not the most well liked. He's probably a little awkward, maybe a late bloomer, flawed in some inconsequential way. He's doing his very best and no one seems to quite understand or appreciate his plight. Can't we all relate?
Happy Friday! This weekend we are looking forward to a dinner date with BD's father, a Saturday hike, saying goodbye to a dear friend who is moving away, and Sunday dessert night with my family, which we'd be absolute fools to miss.