Welcome

In front of my wife's grandparents' house is a nice, little, stone statue of a girl just sitting on a bench near the front door.   Every time we go and visit, it's almost like she's aware that we are there, welcoming us into their house.   I've always seen it there and have commented on it, either quietly to myself or aloud to anyone within earshot, about how neat it is and what the purpose of it is.   This time, I mentioned to nobody in particular that it would make a great picture and it would be interesting to know why she made her way to that particular spot.   With most things; however, when all the hustle and bustle of arriving, unloading, hugging, talking, and unpacking got into full force, the impending question of its origin disappeared into the night along with the warm spell.   The next day, I went out early to catch some good photos of frost and saw her still sitting there on her perch welcoming the new day.   As I snapped the picture of her, I made a mental note to myself to ask what the purpose of her sentry was, and I continued throughout the farm.   Walking around, I saw birds, ducks, hawks, and all sorts of other interesting things that I soon forgot about my little friend near the front door.    When I came back to the house, I barely gave her a glance when I went inside.  It wasn't until leaving this morning that I thought about running back inside to get the information I so wanted.   We left, though, so I suppose she'll still be there in the future, sitting on her bench, welcoming all who gather there, never giving out her secret of how she got there in the first place.