Saturday Slight

 

A glimpse into the eyes of an uninvited but regular guest. 

Just like me, the two must have slept in today because they arrived at the bird feeder in almost full daylight.

Dogs barked.  

Raccoons just went about their business.

I grabbed my camera with the telephoto lens and took pictures through the window. 

One of the pair did decide to stand off at the poplar tree before returning to the base of the feeder to grab a few sunflower seeds. 

The pair stayed long enough for me to snap a few pictures and then calmly and carefully retreated from the feeders and headed back to the woods. 

They've certainly heard that song:  Be not afraid.

I suspect they may have returned in the daytime yesterday because I replaced the rocks at the base of the feeder, which they always remove. 

Later, while walking through with my weed eater, I saw that two rocks had been removed from where I'd placed them earlier. 

So, we'll have to be more vigilant throughout the day, especially when dogs are out running freely around the yard.  

One year on an annual Memorial Day trip to Pinecrest Cemetery with my mother, she asked me to always visit this grave after she was gone and to place flowers. 

It's the grave of our sister Jean Marie who died as an infant in 1950. 

Since my mother's passing, the family arranged to have a new grave stone to replace the tiny notecard-sized, almost invisible identification of the spot as the grave of Jean Marie Brown who lived for about three months after her birth on July 11, 1950.

Her grave is located in an area near other infants from Sandpoint families who died too soon. 

I wonder occasionally what it would have been like to have a sister close to my age.  I do have two other sisters much younger, and that has always been a gratifying, meaningful and fun experience. 

But one still wonders what Jean Marie would have been like as a child and an adult and what she may have contributed to the world. 

I have a feeling, based on my siblings' diversity and their individual contributions, that Jean Marie would have certainly been a positive, interesting force had she lived. 

Who knows?  Maybe we all subconsciously exert a little extra effort during each day to make up for her loss.  

Whatever the case, she is not forgotten, and I happily honor my mother's wishes every year. 

To beat the crowds, I went on the pilgrimage yesterday to place flowers at my parents' grave site at Pack River Cemetery and on Jean Marie's grave at Pinecrest. 

On that trip, I saw two different parties I know and learned that we happened to be following basically the same route. 

From Pack River to Pinecrest for my two friends and then, for them, on to Lakeview. 

In our occasional meet-ups, we enjoyed some lovely conversations, including thoughts on this special duty we all attend to each year. 

Picking, taking and placing flowers is a most meaningful and beautiful tradition, honoring those who have been a part of our lives. 

Ironically, the annual pilgrimage becomes especially meaningful as each year passes and we are reminded that there are probably more people we know residing in those places than those among the living whom we see all the other days of the year. 

Happily, we have received much more rain than anticipated.  Farmers will be happy, as will any of us who love the vivid colors of the spring blooming show.

Having that rain makes welcoming a big beautiful morning sun a guiltless act.  

Let the sun shine. 

Enjoy your Saturday.