For weeks, perhaps months, the woodpecker suet log had only one faithful customer.
Pinecone.
Our little squirrel seemed convinced it had been hung especially for him, and he happily nibbled away while I smiled at the irony of owning a woodpecker feeder without a woodpecker.
But I never took it down.
Some things are worth keeping, even before they become useful.
Today, the reason finally arrived.
A small woodpecker clung to the suet log as though it had always belonged there, tapping and feeding while I watched from the patio. There was no fanfare. No announcement. Just the quiet fulfillment of something I had hoped for.
It reminded me that not every act of hospitality is rewarded immediately.
Sometimes we prepare a place long before the guest arrives.
Whether it’s a bird feeder, an empty chair, a listening ear, or a welcoming heart, we often don’t know when, or if, someone will come. Yet the preparing still matters.
Today, the feeder fulfilled its purpose.
Not because it changed.
But because the right visitor found it.
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