She survived the storm, but not a wet branch.
A word so strongly associated with her breed
a fall
it was a fall, that did her in,
indeed.
Sometimes survival, it’s own form of danger and we don’t even know it.
Such fuss over a common squirrel.
This dead fusser taught me well, to fuss over things nuts?
Maybe there is something important about fussing over nuts and things otherwise roadkill?
The irony of life, the squirrel is now more nut than furry fusser.
Her little body will find a safe place beneath the ground just like a nut.
Ciao, little fusser, happy nut hunting in a place with safer limbs.
Dust & Blooms 
I hope I won’t drive you nuts by leaving little comments after each entry 😉
Your blog is already beautiful.