4:15. It's that time of day when everything has faded to black and white: black line of driveway, white snow, black branches of trees against white sky. Out my window a row of trees is starkly silhouetted and rocking gently in a frigid breeze. The scene could be pleasing in a nostalgic, twilit kind of way, except for the chunky power pole sitting amid the graceful lines of the lacing branches.

Also standing out amid the lines of trunks, branches, and power lines: a clump of leaves halfway up the tallest tree that must be a squirrel's nest, also called a drey. Odd words like that stick in my head. I've tried looking it up to find out where it came from, but other than learning that you could also name your baby boy Drey, it appears to be of unknown origin.

When I was very young, my mother would read me a picture book called "Miss Suzy." (I just looked it up on Amazon and it's still in print! It's now in my shopping cart.) The plot line was fairly simple. Miss Suzy was a grey squirrel who lived in a neat house in a tree, until some mean red squirrels chased her out and messed up her house. Some toy soldiers fought them off and somehow helped Miss Suzy find a new home. I mostly remember being enchanted by her little acorn cups and twig broom. Even now when I see a squirrel's nest I can't help but wonder what's inside. And how does more than one squirrel fit in there, anyway?

Clump of leaves and twigs,
somehow sheltering squirrels.
What makes a home "home"?