Checking out the progress of our new house construction, I had to scramble over piles of dirt. There, at my feet, was a feather. “Hawk,” I thought at first, but now I’m thinking more like owl. Either way, I take this find as a sign that the neighbors — the ones out there in the trees, anyway — are watching, and waiting for our arrival. Grateful for interesting discoveries at my feet. Had I not been climbing piles of dirt, my eyes would never have strayed to my path and to the feather shed there. I would have been the poorer.