I’m thinking of all the things that become fodder for stories. As winter ends and we examine the deer in the forest behind our house to see how they fared with the deep snow, I’m reminded of two orphan fawns we fed one brutal winter. They were so emaciated when we first noticed them that I’m sure they wouldn’t have survived without our care. And we had to chase full grown deer from the feeder so they could eat. But they survived, thrived, and considered our land home for the years. They became the protagonists of a Confession magazine story. I will remember them forever.