Several slight, relatively speaking, events yesterday, both life-affirming and a reminder that death is part of life, at least the conclusion of it; that all living organisms make their gradual way toward that final repose. Early morning, when we take our two little dogs out to the back garden, there was a bluejay on the fence, with a peanut. Helping himself to the few that I put out nightly for the squirrels to discover the following day.

Later in the day my husband brought my notice to an unusual sight; from the dining room windows we saw a tiny green frog, the size of a Spring Peeper, sitting on the outside windowsill. We wondered where it had come from. We do have a woodland creek running through an urban forest in a ravine up the street from our house. An awfully long way for a creature so tiny to venture from. And why a windowsill when he could have the cover, comfort and moisture of the garden that sits below it?

Out went my husband to gently pluck the miniature frog off the windowsill, with the intention of walking down to the creek and depositing it there, a far more congenial and life-supporting, natural environment for a wee amphibian. Too late, it was dead, its miniature green body in quiet repose, not merely taking a quiet break, as we initially thought. And it became evident to us how it had met its final moments; we hadn't noticed its presence in the dark of night as we routinely cranked the window shut the night before, trapping our tiny visitor between window panes, to asphyxiate.

Later in the afternoon when we were out in the ravine for our daily ramble with our two little dogs, we fed squirrels, those bold enough to approach and others who waited patiently for us to deposit peanuts in the usual cache-places. Among the boldest are the tiny chipmunks who are generally more aloof and shy during the summer months, who seem to appear in the fall to diligently gather their winter store.