When I got where I'm at now, there was a birdhouse hanging from a dogwood tree out back. It was old, 20 years at least. It was in dire need of a renovation.

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It was blue. And old. Decrepit, completely engulfed in moss and mold and bugs and slugs, looking like it hadn't seen a flight itinerary since before covid. _{_{***What a hammer might say:***}} # ~ Co-racK❗️ Destroyed it. Old ass thing didn't stand a chance. One swing - game over. I sheathed my hammer victoriously like an adolescent stashes a fake ID following a successful beer run. There's a wrought iron table and chairs out there between two old oak trees. Both are lit up around the base in white party lights like Disneyland in California. Just me and Atlas now. Chillin. Birds are 🎼🔊 Squirrels are on date night, she's playing hard to get; up and down and around the trees—run, chase, hop-hop :pause: Run some more. I loaded up the grinder we brought back from Amsterdam with some Kush Mintz from Los Angeles. Twisted *and twisted* ***and twisted*** it. Packed a cone and barely got the thing lit when that voice that stops me in my tracks every.single.time echoed across the yard from the kitchen window. > What happened to the birdhouse that was in that tree? *It was hammered.* > Awwwe. It was cute. I know that *(insert air quotes)* `Awe.` Thing is, she doesn't like getting her shoes dirty so she only saw it from a distance. It was not cute. The voice from the window continued, only this time a few octaves higher like cat lady who didn't just get a cat for Christmas but **two CATS** for Christmas!!!!!! > Didn't you say TheBigsWeed made us one when we didn't have an address?!? She's right. He did say that. Something like that, it's been awhile. Made us one or will make us one, I don't remember now. And something else about if we stayed in one place long enough. I ashed my cone, scrolled through about a year of Sweed content and, there it was, safely filed away on the blockchain forever. **When they decide to return from their latest venture....**

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He didn't say make. He said made as in all he needs now is a shipping address.

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Dear Erica: I'm sure it's a nice beanie, looks real warm. My wife thought it looked real warm too. She put it on while I was admiring the countersunk holes in the bird feeder your dad made us and..

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Dear Sweed: My man, you know how to set the bar. And you, @farm-mom, you know how to pick'em, you. That's the coolest delivery I've received at this house you guys. ***Thank you.*** <3 You can't miss the feeder if you look out back from the dining room or kitchen where the majority of time is spent. A pair of doves stop by regularly. All of the passerby's are in pairs actually. The little gray ones with black spots like a Dalmatian. And the red chested ones, too, dark red like wine with black wings and heads. Redheaded gutterpeckers, they're bigger than the other birds, that's what I call them anyway. Woodpeckers, probably. Bastards frequently mistake the rain gutter above the art room for a tree—gutterpeckers. Sounds like they're installing solar panels on the roof. I tried snapping pictures of them numerous times, no dice. They won't stick around long enough. Soon as I step foot off the deck they fly away. Could probably use a zoom thing but I don't think I'm ready to talk about how when I focus on something like that I'm not convinced I'm the only :pause: I fill it up about once a week with that sticky cornmeal stuff. They love it. We can't enjoy all of the new flight itinerary out back without thinking about you guys. Thanks, Jurg's—coolest upstaters I've never met.

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