So, this morning, husband is out mowing the lawn which had turned into a forest after the storms that went through all week long. All of a sudden, it was reminiscent of a scene from Hitchcock’s The Birds when he was dive bombed by at least half a dozen swallows, all vying for the bugs that have been dormant in the dried grass. They come within inches of his face and head, grabbing the bugs that rise from the grass and it’s one of the coolest things to watch. They’ll follow him from the front yard to the back and strafe him there as well until he’s done. I don’t know where they nest, but I’m glad I get to see their mid-air ballet.