Actually, she's a newspaper box wren, and she was very insistent about this particular nest location.
I discouraged her at first, pulling out the bits of moss, dried leaves, and twigs for a couple of days. Then one day I was away from the house for most of the day. That evening, when I checked the newspaper box, I found this:
I didn't have the heart to interfere with the carefully crafted, dense, tunnel-like nest. After all, she might be ready to lay her eggs, and I know just what it is like to be close to delivery and just barely having one's nest prepared.
The newspaper delivery man must have seen the nest because he has kindly bagged our newspaper each day, whether it was raining or not, and deposited it on the ground under the mailbox.
Isn't that kind?