The mud daubers appeared quite predictably, in the window of the mud room. This room was occupied by various coats, shoes, bookshelves, a desk and a rabbit. Four or five wasps stalked the screen, between two panes of glass, their elongated wings transparent and overlaid with a dark broderie, their delicate legs vaguely threatening. I wondered, will they be able to get inside the room, and thus, into the further recesses of the house? Our sage blind elderly rabbit said nothing, but angled her ears. My plan was to wait until dark, and then to spray their nest, though I felt hideous at the prospect. A severe thunderstorm was expected. I located the necessary poison and then stepped onto the porch by the woodpile just as the rain began to fall. Heavy languid drops punctuated the thick air. A cauldron, with occasional fireflies. Because it wasn’t possible to open the window from the outside, and because I was tired, and because the notion of opening the window from the inside, possibly exposing the mudroom and the house to mud daubers, I paused and gazed at the their lovely geometric nests so carefully constructed. How could I destroy such a deliberate and beautiful architecture? Also, my son told me that these mud daubers would not sting or bite. I still find this implausible after viewing their impressive poise and stature, and after reading of them that should I remove their nest simply with a paint scraper or a hose; they would not fight back. A sting from a mud dauber is extremely rare. And so their nest remains, the only danger being that other more aggressive insects might take up residence in these delicate mud cells.