TINY TREASURES: I walk past a row of naked trees poking their scrawny, leafless branches heavenward in hopes of a little springtime sunshine almost every day. Each of these wanton trees have become home to the nesting birds in the neighborhood. One of these tiny treasures could fit in the palm of my hand—it’s so itty-bitty. Others are a tad bigger, and all of them stand out against the stormy sky like scribbles among sticks. I love how the birds don’t seem to mind that hundreds of children breeze by their nesting eggs day after day, as the school is right across the street. I secretly hope that the limbs of these scrappy trees don’t sprout blooms too soon so that when the babies are hatched, my little girls can catch a glimpse of the baby birds poking their bobbling heads up chirping for some wormy-nommers from all of the momma birds.