Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think. It's splendid to find out there are so many of them in the world.

Anne Shirley makes this observation near the end of chapter 19 of Anne of Green Gables, after coming to know Miss Barry better. L. M. Montgomery lets her revise an earlier impression of who can count as a kindred spirit. The discovery is not merely that a pleasant person exists. It is that an apparent mismatch can conceal a form of companionship that takes time to become visible.

The useful invitation is to leave a little room in first impressions. Shared temperament or curiosity may not announce itself through age, appearance, or an immediately easy conversation. A person can seem reserved, severe, or simply unlike us before another part of them is encountered. This does not require forcing every acquaintance into friendship. It asks whether the categories used to predict closeness have become too narrow to recognize it when it arrives in an unexpected coat.

The black and ginger cats sharing a wicker basket give that unexpected affinity a warm visual form. Their different markings remain obvious, while the resting place is comfortably shared. The picture suits Anne's delight in expanding the world of possible companions. Human kindred spirits need not be copies of one another. Sometimes the pleasure lies in discovering that a familiar kind of warmth can come from someone you had not initially thought to look toward.