ashes and hennies

we have lived a whole week without the yellow dog. burning bright is our living room shrine of photos and favored toys and sweetly scented lights flickering on baby pictures and sympathy cards. little chewies laid out should her spirit pass by in hunger. the killing shot went into her leg and stopped her heart. ashes are what we are left with. and hennies.

now it is time to return to the forest. i am behind on my project, behind on Christmas, behind on preparing to move my studio. there is pressure every december and it is making it my least favorite month of the year. but the crunchy ice covered grasses and black water will restore me. away from the hum of the city. blowers and jets and construction noise. the incivility on the roads.

some of the ashes will go into the creek where the maple leans low over the bank, another pinch to the field.
the far side where the last of the sun warmed 2 yellow girls before dropping behind the mountain. i will find her fur and old balls and reminders over and over again, i know. but the goldfinches on their thistle feeder, mourning doves and chickadees will be my companions. maybe a fox, or opossum. certainly the big kingfisher. maybe even the wandering yellow lab from the other side of the creek.
and the hennies. i still have the fussy fussy hennies.