Nothing like that temperature and humidity drop after the heavens open and hammer down upon us. No more going outside first thing in the morning and taking a deep breath of water. No more red-face and sweat stains from a sixty-pace stroll to fetch the mail.
And, lamentably, after the especially punishing torrent last Sunday, no more osprey nest.
My heart broke when I checked in the next morning to find their new nest dangling, in shreds, from a branch several feet lower. Having returned yesterday evening from a week away for work, the ospreys are still flying around and the wrecked nest still hangs on, but it’s tough to tell whether they’ll try to repair it. Or even where they’re staying at the moment. The old nest? An Aeriebnb nearby? Back to the binoculars for me…