This is an especially fine year for them. I was thinking about what it means to trust that winter will end and the trees will mostly bud , leaf, and fruit again starting in the Spring.
My endearment–goddess Uma incarnated as feline–always carried within it the notion that an incarnation of a goddess is a temporary form. Still, I am grieving.
I post not of the heaviness of my heart, nor of how I am trying to contribute to the persistence and resistance, which I trust are understood, but to notice that in my neighborhood, the tree branches are swelling with incipient budding. Spring still comes.