In my view, it's the kind of day where any resolve to increase physical activity has to be fulfilled indoors. So it's back to the treadmill for me. With an incline, to satisfy my picky doc. So tedious, but hey, I'm motivated.
Outside, the animals seem oblivious to the cool winds.
Stop Sign, our mama feral cat, has been more present lately and I think I can confirm now that she is again pregnant.
That's not a fat belly full of food. There will be another batch of kittens if all goes well for her. But this does put us on notice: we have got to get that girl to the vet! To our credit, we talked about doing just that! But she gave us very little chance. We could not take her away from Dance and Jacket until they were able to manage the bitter winter days on their own. And as soon as they were weaned, she started wandering again.
Ed asks -- she's hanging here now. Should we take her in, fat belly and all?
How is that different from what the village people did back in Poland, when I was little? (Sometimes, when playing in the river, we'd find dead little kittens floating with the current.)
So, we take her in after she gives birth?
Again, not immediately: she has to care for the new ones, if they even survive.
It's a cruel world out there for little ones living in the wild.
On the upside, maybe she mated with Whiskers and we'll have ourselves a litter of kitties with bobcat faces and Maine Coon cat furs. (Friends tell us that Stop Sign has the face of a bobcat -- aka a lynx.)
Breakfast. I'm giving Ed a photo break.
In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop to the farmette. How the girl loves the cheepers! She tells me now that her favorites are Happy and Cupcake. She hasn't noticed that Cupcake hasn't been with the flock since January.
But were she to ask, I no longer worry about explaining what happened. She is aware of hawks. She has recently seen movies that are not shy about introducing a vocabulary of death and the dying (Coco and Moana come to mind). Nature is still full of magic for her, but the realities of surviving in the wild are slowly making themselves visible.
Inside, our play is without such violence. The books we read have uniformly comfortable endings. The games she invents are full of mishaps and perturbations, but they, too, end well.
Recently, Snowdrop has fallen in love with building stuff and there is plenty of time to create Amazing Structures.
And since it's Thursday, I get her ready for gym class. She spends a good half hour flying around the farmhouse in anticipation of her class and for once I'm glad she napped in school and had a big, nourishing snack.
The girl is off and away. Outside, cold stuff is falling from the sky. Inside, Ed and I talk about planting tomato seeds this weekend. I reheat yesterday's soup, squeeze a lemon into it and sprinkle each bowl with grated cheese.
Great dinner, gorgeous!
Sometimes, Ed is not very fussy about what I serve.
Outside, the animals seem oblivious to the cool winds.
Stop Sign, our mama feral cat, has been more present lately and I think I can confirm now that she is again pregnant.
That's not a fat belly full of food. There will be another batch of kittens if all goes well for her. But this does put us on notice: we have got to get that girl to the vet! To our credit, we talked about doing just that! But she gave us very little chance. We could not take her away from Dance and Jacket until they were able to manage the bitter winter days on their own. And as soon as they were weaned, she started wandering again.
Ed asks -- she's hanging here now. Should we take her in, fat belly and all?
How is that different from what the village people did back in Poland, when I was little? (Sometimes, when playing in the river, we'd find dead little kittens floating with the current.)
So, we take her in after she gives birth?
Again, not immediately: she has to care for the new ones, if they even survive.
It's a cruel world out there for little ones living in the wild.
On the upside, maybe she mated with Whiskers and we'll have ourselves a litter of kitties with bobcat faces and Maine Coon cat furs. (Friends tell us that Stop Sign has the face of a bobcat -- aka a lynx.)
Breakfast. I'm giving Ed a photo break.
In the afternoon, I bring Snowdrop to the farmette. How the girl loves the cheepers! She tells me now that her favorites are Happy and Cupcake. She hasn't noticed that Cupcake hasn't been with the flock since January.
But were she to ask, I no longer worry about explaining what happened. She is aware of hawks. She has recently seen movies that are not shy about introducing a vocabulary of death and the dying (Coco and Moana come to mind). Nature is still full of magic for her, but the realities of surviving in the wild are slowly making themselves visible.
Inside, our play is without such violence. The books we read have uniformly comfortable endings. The games she invents are full of mishaps and perturbations, but they, too, end well.
Recently, Snowdrop has fallen in love with building stuff and there is plenty of time to create Amazing Structures.
And since it's Thursday, I get her ready for gym class. She spends a good half hour flying around the farmhouse in anticipation of her class and for once I'm glad she napped in school and had a big, nourishing snack.
The girl is off and away. Outside, cold stuff is falling from the sky. Inside, Ed and I talk about planting tomato seeds this weekend. I reheat yesterday's soup, squeeze a lemon into it and sprinkle each bowl with grated cheese.
Great dinner, gorgeous!
Sometimes, Ed is not very fussy about what I serve.
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