In 2000 we lost a sweet black labrador named Schooner while we were on vacation in Nova Scotia. He had eaten some red-tide-poisoned crabs while playing on the beach and this combined with the epilepsy he had an ongoing struggle with, led to his sudden passing. Needless to say, we were devastated. My uncle (the minster who married Bart and me at the same vacation cottage) helped us through this by performing a little ceremony for Schooner down by the lake. As he finished up, we wept and hugged each other and then a magical thing happened. A flock of Canada geese came out of nowhere and landed on the lake right in front of our little family gathering. They quietly looked right at us and a feeling of peace swept over us.
Ever since then, each spring the Canada geese fly over our farm for a few days. You’re not going to be believe me when I tell you there is always one that flies alone and seems to make a special detour right over our house and makes enough of a commotion that I hear it and look up to see. Yesterday when I was out walking Devon and Rollie a couple of geese flew over and I felt that familiar sense of peace. I watched them fly over the trees and disappear. Not 5 minutes later, as I got closer to our house, a lone goose flew above me, squawking and making quite a fuss. I looked up and said, “Hey, Schooner. It’s good to see you!” and he flew off.
Nature’s secrets are amazing.
Oh, Arlene. That’s wonderful! Thank you for sharing.
I am a 75 year old widow, retired graphic designer and vintage foxhunter. My husband never rode, but he loved our horses (we had, and I still have 3) and he was always the one who got up at 6:30AM to feed, he always had my trailer hooked up and ready on hunting days and he loved going to hunt balls, wearing a tuxedo and dancing. He always rooted for the fox, he was a gentle soul and would never hurt any animal, (it worked, 40 years of foxhunting I never saw a kill) He died 6 years ago from pancreatic cancer. He is buried here in a very old New England cemetery. A few days after his burial I had made a special something to put on his grave, it was a rainy October day and as I entered the big iron gates of the cemetery the Little Road turned into three roads, I couldn’t remember witch one led to his grave, I just sat in my car and started to cry. All of a sudden a grey fox jumped out from behind some trees and rocks and scurried down one of the three roads…I followed in my car crying all the way…that grey fox led me right to my husbands grave. I then knew his spirit was in a good place.
❤️
I love it. U 2 xx
I missed this yesterday so am glad you shared again today. What a lovely story, Lisa — and I do believe it! PS love your doodles; they’re a great start to each day.