Here we are again, the same swift straight to the end of another year. And what a year! In my own burrow we have swept the floor - we recognise not ourselves of December last. In my haste for enterprise I have leapt alongside smaller paws as they reach and stretch and find their own.
And I see much change within the wood. We are indeed grown. We have weathered our paths and lit our lanterns these last months. Should you crowd us together (and what burrow could ever be big enough for that?!) many a story we could swap.
We have - none of us - passed a year without challenges and triumphs of our own.
(I write as sleepy headed rabbits doze).
But the hearts of this wood know no greater triumph than yours. New life sleeps, breathes and fills your walls. Your home will never again be the place it was before.
Whilst it has taken the greater part of 24 months - to realise I can answer your questions not. I can search the sky, the stars, the universe beyond...
And in my journey - for it is that - I accept your peace lies not in my action, words or thought. As these days go by I face again familiar walls, floors, cotton cloth...
I come back to my own.
For there is much - in both our stories - yet to come.
But beyond snow laden sills, I hope you know - no matter what - I have half an ear, half an eye and half a paw. Half a scent on the wind which blows over our meadow from the north, a tenth of my concentration and a fundamental part of fur and claw - to year on year, light my own torch.
Not one of us in this wood has forgot.
And in your story - perhaps the cruelest lesson is that life goes on. In season and in growth. In her new rosy cheeked, bright eyed gaze each morning. She is your triumph despite grief, despair and loss. She is a miracle of her own.
And past Christmas, in the new year - in the wake of paper chains and tinsel laden green - when the wood falls quiet and you fall bleak - when the earliest part of 2015 is the last place you wish to see...
In my kitchen, I'll gather woollen folds and fancy - through January gloom - the bright place I'd rather have you see. I'll light a candle and remember your Star of the Sea.
It is that day - swept of glitter, gold and tree - I'll wish you (and all of yours) the best for another year.
|Moonlight and Hares - Original artwork by Karen Davis|
The Lucky Star - April 2013
The Christmas Star - December 2013