It was a unique morning. I could give it many titles: "at long last..." fits well. Or, "it's now or never!" Or "big steps." Or perhaps a combination of some such words.
We wake to fog. That's not unusual: yesterday was quite the same: dense fog greeting me as I go out to feed the cats.
But wait, where are my favorites? The four little ones and, too, the teen girl with the furry tail and the incongruous name of Dark Blue Tulip (Snowdrop at work) do not show up for feeding time.This is a little disconcerting. Why are they hiding?
I follow Dance after she gobbles half the food in the bowls set out for the remaining cats. She knows I'm behind her. She leads me through a thicket of brush on the floor of the old orchard. Then she jumps on the almost hidden stump of a tree Ed chopped down. Her kitties are on it. She settles there to nurse them.
I have no explanation for this behavior. Were they spooked by yesterday's evening fuss? Do they know we may be packing up two of them and sending them away? Did some other cat or animal chase them out of the garage?
I let them be. I'm in a bit of a hurry, because at 8 I'm to meet the young family at school. They're introducing Sparrow to his classroom -- he'll be starting school in three weeks. Since I'll be picking him up, I want to get a sense of stuff. (Even as the class and teachers are the same ones Snowdrop had three years back.) As I get in the car to drive off, I see Stop Sign trotting up to the house.
I call Ed. I mean, it's good timing: the chickens aren't out, the other cats are fed. She has been going into the cage (set closely to the farmhouse door) to eat for several days now. The clinic is open this morning.
Do you want to try to try to capture her? -- I ask, then drive off, not really waiting for an answer.
At school, the family is excited to start this new chapter in Sparrow's life! We're all here to encourage him.
(soon to be "school boy!")
Sparrow is not yet solid on his feet: he'll be by far the youngest in the class, but he is a happy boy and curious about those around him, so everyone's optimistic about the year ahead!
I return to the farmhouse and note that Ed's car is gone. So is the trap.
And so there was success! We have finally gotten fertile myrtle to the vet!
We have a late but celebratory breakfast. On the porch.
And now Ed returns to bed and I review my options. Perhaps I should play with the kitties? If we want to get the others to be less skittish, we have to spend more time with them.
Or maybe I should take out at least some of the weeds in the places where I want to put down seeds?
I give it a go. Just a little. Say around the tee-pee, to give the clematis there a clean slate. Maybe also around Ed's marigolds. And while I'm here (with the cheepers at my heels -- suddenly they have me stirring up the soil again... bugs! worms!), maybe also around the birch? All the way to the sheep shed?
I work a solid two hours. And yes, I got maybe 75% of the weeds out of there. I mean, the weather is beautiful and the seeds, ready for sowing, are plentiful. If I create a hospitable space for them, maybe finally we will have beaten down the invasive weeds that tend to dominate the space at that end of farmette lands.
And then I sit down with a sandwich and a coffee on the porch and refuse to move. I am spent!
In the early afternoon, I'm out again. It's time to pick up Snowdrop.
Today, when I suggest a neighborhood adventure, she enthusiastically agrees. We start with a snack at the coffee shop.
(Snowdrop thinks she likes doughnuts more than she actually does...)
And we move on to the playground. It's so incredibly gorgeous today!
(Some things don't change: she still wants to play ice cream shop.)
That smell of autumn! A little dry, a little crispy, with a touch of mowed hay. It's with us now. Fall may not come until Monday, but today surely offered a good imitation of it!
In the evening, Ed brings home a very displeased Stop Sign. Predictably, she flew out of the cage when the door was opened. But she did not run wild. When I brought food to the writer's shed (she was hiding under it), she came out to eat. We're not sure whether she is lactating, but if she is, it will be her last run.
If two little ones go to a good home this Sunday, we'll have only two remaining that will require a vet's intervention in another month or so.
Phew! It's been quite the busy day! Uniquely beautiful!
We wake to fog. That's not unusual: yesterday was quite the same: dense fog greeting me as I go out to feed the cats.
But wait, where are my favorites? The four little ones and, too, the teen girl with the furry tail and the incongruous name of Dark Blue Tulip (Snowdrop at work) do not show up for feeding time.This is a little disconcerting. Why are they hiding?
I follow Dance after she gobbles half the food in the bowls set out for the remaining cats. She knows I'm behind her. She leads me through a thicket of brush on the floor of the old orchard. Then she jumps on the almost hidden stump of a tree Ed chopped down. Her kitties are on it. She settles there to nurse them.
I have no explanation for this behavior. Were they spooked by yesterday's evening fuss? Do they know we may be packing up two of them and sending them away? Did some other cat or animal chase them out of the garage?
I let them be. I'm in a bit of a hurry, because at 8 I'm to meet the young family at school. They're introducing Sparrow to his classroom -- he'll be starting school in three weeks. Since I'll be picking him up, I want to get a sense of stuff. (Even as the class and teachers are the same ones Snowdrop had three years back.) As I get in the car to drive off, I see Stop Sign trotting up to the house.
I call Ed. I mean, it's good timing: the chickens aren't out, the other cats are fed. She has been going into the cage (set closely to the farmhouse door) to eat for several days now. The clinic is open this morning.
Do you want to try to try to capture her? -- I ask, then drive off, not really waiting for an answer.
At school, the family is excited to start this new chapter in Sparrow's life! We're all here to encourage him.
(soon to be "school boy!")
Sparrow is not yet solid on his feet: he'll be by far the youngest in the class, but he is a happy boy and curious about those around him, so everyone's optimistic about the year ahead!
I return to the farmhouse and note that Ed's car is gone. So is the trap.
And so there was success! We have finally gotten fertile myrtle to the vet!
We have a late but celebratory breakfast. On the porch.
And now Ed returns to bed and I review my options. Perhaps I should play with the kitties? If we want to get the others to be less skittish, we have to spend more time with them.
Or maybe I should take out at least some of the weeds in the places where I want to put down seeds?
I give it a go. Just a little. Say around the tee-pee, to give the clematis there a clean slate. Maybe also around Ed's marigolds. And while I'm here (with the cheepers at my heels -- suddenly they have me stirring up the soil again... bugs! worms!), maybe also around the birch? All the way to the sheep shed?
I work a solid two hours. And yes, I got maybe 75% of the weeds out of there. I mean, the weather is beautiful and the seeds, ready for sowing, are plentiful. If I create a hospitable space for them, maybe finally we will have beaten down the invasive weeds that tend to dominate the space at that end of farmette lands.
And then I sit down with a sandwich and a coffee on the porch and refuse to move. I am spent!
In the early afternoon, I'm out again. It's time to pick up Snowdrop.
Today, when I suggest a neighborhood adventure, she enthusiastically agrees. We start with a snack at the coffee shop.
(Snowdrop thinks she likes doughnuts more than she actually does...)
And we move on to the playground. It's so incredibly gorgeous today!
(Some things don't change: she still wants to play ice cream shop.)
That smell of autumn! A little dry, a little crispy, with a touch of mowed hay. It's with us now. Fall may not come until Monday, but today surely offered a good imitation of it!
In the evening, Ed brings home a very displeased Stop Sign. Predictably, she flew out of the cage when the door was opened. But she did not run wild. When I brought food to the writer's shed (she was hiding under it), she came out to eat. We're not sure whether she is lactating, but if she is, it will be her last run.
If two little ones go to a good home this Sunday, we'll have only two remaining that will require a vet's intervention in another month or so.
Phew! It's been quite the busy day! Uniquely beautiful!
