In Brevard a white squirrel scampers from fence post to post. He has family nearby. At Christmas I meet a woman who writes children’s books about a white squirrel named Ozette who lives in Farlandia. This writer feeds her white squirrel friends every day and is loathe to travel… does not want to abandon her second family.
At the Brevard Blues Festival, a man wears a maroon tee shirt with a huge white smiling squirrel, juggling acorns above his head. A twinkle in his eye. A friend and I find the shop selling these shirts and purchase three of them. We each wear one and present our choir director with the third one. He doubles in laughter as he sees the acorns being juggled and says, “this is my life more than you know.”
One March day, a brown squirrel with a white diamond on his back, sprawls across a tree trunk in the warm sun. Upside down his arms stretch out and belly flats against the brown trunk. His claws extend.
He rests a long time while I improvise a tune on my harp beside the window near him. Shortly he scampers down the tree trunk away as I play the tune he inspired.