Yesterday, in the midst of all the sleet excitement, the coming and going, and the bundling and unbundling, the cat got out... and came right back in with a "gift" for the family.
It was a little towhee (and I'm sure he didn't suffer much, don't let the feathers worry you). After thanking Rory for the gift (ahem), we took it outside to find a peaceful place for it to "rest." The noteworthiness of this story, for this Mama anyway, is the tenderness and sweetness of the Littles as we searched for a place to tuck the little bird.
They decided a little "cave" made by a few rocks leaning against each other, where the sleet had not accumulated and a bed of leaves still showed, was the place for the little bird. They carried him to the spot, gently tucked him in, said good-bye, and then ran off on their next adventure. I lingered for just a few more seconds, letting the juxtaposition of the bird and their innocence soak in, then I joined them.
It was just another moment mid-cycle: seasons, feelings, life. And I'm glad I looked up, and I noticed.