From my writing room, I have a view of the front garden. The sun is rising in a pale pink sky and peeks through my window, creating rainbows from the hanging prisms. It is here, in this magical place where I watch the panorama of nature unfold before me as an unseen observer.
This is the time of year when there are 30-40 lovebirds perched on the sprawling limbs of the Mesquite tree. Although in full view, they blend into the tree foliage but for their rosy peach cheeks. I can hear their distinctive chatter which is bright and gay; a raucous chorus. Among them, there is always at least one hybrid. Today it is the pale yellow one I call Butter. Because she is different, the others often scold and fuss at her but she holds her own, never backing down.
Within the flock that visits, there are at…
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