By the hazel this morning the jays set out a tray of thumbnail addresses. Each nut greeted the root, nodded to the squirrel, and went to nap under a leaf until spring.
We asked at the kiosk. I thought they were packing lunch, said a woman buying sunflower seeds, until I saw the tiny writing. A neighbor had heard the squirrel was jealous. It was only helping with the stamps.
The park keeper pinned a card to the trunk: one address each, please do not wake the mail before April, visitors may leave a quiet good night.