By first loaf the bakery chimney had already collected a patient queue of twigs. The storks who keep a nest on the pot have opened a morning school of polite nesting, and the roof takes attendance in smoke.
We asked at the kiosk across the street. "They wait until the chimney has stretched," said the vendor, wrapping a warm bun. "If the smoke is still yawning, the twigs sit on the gutter and practice their bows. Nobody rushes a stick that has not yet said good morning."
A line in the baker's little thanks book reads: "Thank you for not dropping a lesson into the cinnamon. The nest looks very tidy from the yard."
The next morning a second stork arrived with a ribbon of grass and joined the class. The baker swears the chimney has never stood up straighter.