After brunch with our new dog, “Midnight” sleeping at Dean and I’s feet in the midst of grandchildren’s squeals, toys, crinkled holiday wrapping paper. Taking a surprise nap, my deceased father’s canine companion enters our lives as a surprise present this Christmas … part of my father in our midst. Duck hunting on special occasions, with many more days at the farm and greenhouse. “The poetry of the earth is never dead.” John Keats