I went down the hill to clean out the Bluebird house this morning.
As I reached my hand down in it to grab the old nest materials, the bottom fell out.
Glad there weren’t babies in there all ready!
I had to take that rotten box, still on the pole, up the hill and into the shop.
I took that thing apart and used the pieces as templates to make new parts.
I left the front, so technically it’s still one of my daddy’s birdhouses.
How did I know how to cut wood and build a birdhouse?
My daddy taught me how. My sister and I call them “Man Lessons.”
All those skills have come in handy over the years.
My daddy may be gone, but his skills live on.
He is still helping his beloved bluebirds through me.