Saturday in gentle sunshine

I come downstairs to fix breakfast. I glance out the kitchen window. This is so routine for me! I like to see how the light falls on the barn and sheep shed, especially on a day like this one, where the sun, though not intense, throws the kindest tones on our landscape!

But what's this?






Ed! Ed!! Come down quickly! The kitties are back!

He is instantly awake, downstairs, ready. We're prepared, we have kittie stuff!.

Do they remember? We come with food!






On Thanksgiving, there were five. Today, we count four. Plus mom, though mom is always out and about, hunting, hunting...

Four. Ed sets out bowls for five. They lick them clean, of course.






This is such a tough season for them. One seems to have drippy eyes. Four. Will they stay? Will they be gone soon?






We return to our beloved little farmhouse...






... for breakfast. In the sunshine.






Cheepers on alert. I think it's because they sense the kitties' presence.






In the afternoon, we go to Brooklyn. Not the New York one, the one next to us, with the Ice Age trail cutting through it.






It's a beautiful day to be out in Brooklyn, Wisconsin.






Yes, we still need to wear blaze orange. Guns, dogs -- we hear them. What are you hunting? -- Ed asks one guy getting out of a truck just next to us. Oh, rabbits, pheasant. That kind of stuff -- the hunter answers.

Well, at least they point their rifles low to the ground for that.






At the farmette, we tiptoe back to the barn. Will they be gone? Will we see them again?

They're here. Huddled. Watching us. No longer totally afraid.





There will always be more questions than we're able to answer. We can only hope that all is well. A little food, a little water. Perhaps it's enough. For now.

At the farmhouse, I resume holiday preparations. Menu planning. Ribboning packages. To the sound of music. In the light of the setting sun.