Bill has been working on a chicken coop across the street. Soon, baby chicks will be scratching around a cardboard circle, gaining strength and stamina for their work on the farm. When ready, they will inaugurate the new coop with their cheeps and clucks, with their eggs, with their rich droppings.
Bees are headed this way, too. The hives have been assembled and painted. We have only to wait on the weather to move more surely into spring for the busy-ness of bees to become part of our lives. They’ll be part of our food supply, too, as they pollinate the Three Sisters (corn, squash, beans) field and make tasty honey to share with us.
The ducks continue to lay eggs, to search the frozen ground for any tasty morsel that might have escaped winter’s icy grasp, to delight the toddlers who come to visit them every day after their half-day of school.
We miss Buzz’s insistent demands for his favorite food, the dusty prints he left on the counter, the filthy patch that marked his favorite sleeping place, the predictable snuggle he gave when picked up, the strong contented purr you could hear clear across the great room.
Life does go on. The days become needles that weave the threads of loss and new life into a rich fabric with no beginning and no end.
Thank God for that.