August 30, 2015
"Mommy come here!"
"Bird! It dead!"
We crouch over a bird lying in the grass. Its wings are spread open. I wave my hand to shoo away the flies.
"What kind?" Leif asks. I tell him it looks like a finch and we continue to study the little brown bird. I turn it over and notice a puncture wound on the side of its head.
Leif points to the yellow colour in the tip of its tail. "It beautiful!" he says.
We dig a hole and bury the bird under a honey-locust tree behind our house. Leif picks up a nearby pinecone and says he wants to put it on top. He places it gently on the small pile of earth.
"It needs one more thing," I tell him and we go to the garden. I pick two sprigs of lavender and lay them next to the pinecone.
We stand over the grave and Leif gives it one last pat with his shovel. "Goodbye bird," he says.