Everywhere Here: The Birds and Their Mothers and a Book, Nearly Done

So much life outside, while I have been holed up here, within.  But there is news.  There is an end.  A book has (I think) taken form.  Thanks to all of you who said, Keep going (and have forgiven my uncharacteristic absence on the web).  I have learned, in addition to much else, this:

* where a passage feels dead, it's not typically because it hasn't been written well, but rather because it hasn't been properly imagined;

* don't let the ending you've had for four years dictate the ending you need now; and

* a book should work like memory does—in and out, tangential, essential, teaching us new what we'd almost forgotten.