It was, I think, after having been eaten nearly alive when painting the exterior of my house, that my handyman asked me whether I wanted him to put up a bat house. “Oh yes,” was my enthusiastic response. “I love bats.” The bat house is up. I hope against hope that some bats will make their way into my little yard in an inner city alley and come to feast on the mosquitoes. I am not holding my breath, but anything can happen. One day, a couple of years ago, a hummingbird appeared out of no where to hover in my garden.
