It wasn't your typical morning. On any other day, I go out, feed the cats in some half awake half asleep fashion, consider going back for a cat nap (if I may borrow a feline term), I read, write, do chores. That would be normal.
Instead, this morning I make my way to the kitchen when it is still dark. Overcast skies, late October. What do you expect from this brooding combo... I glance out and there is Stop Sign, the grand mama, on the porch steps. And some movement in the background. Oh crap, have the teenagers invaded her space?
I leave a bowl of food for her, then go out, hustling the teenagers, who have descended on the farmhouse path, jostling, rubbing, nibbling. Hey, Dance, that's my leg! Keep your nibbles to yourself!
As I get to the sheep shed, I see Happy, the rooster, darting by. Say what? Shouldn't you be in the coop? He's chasing the hapless Peach who never really likes his advances. Damn it. Ed must have forgotten to put them in the coop for the night. It had been an unusual Sunday and stripped of our by-the-clock routines, we floundered.
I count the chickens. Phew! They survived.
After feeding the teenagers and Yo-Yo the babe, I go back to the farmhouse and look out again. There's no mistake. One of Stop Sign's wee kittens figured out how to follow her onto the porch. Well that's a relief. I feel that they are safer and warmer here. And close to the food source and away from the herd of teens. For now.
And just as I consider dozing off again, I hear the pounding on the roof. A regular old downpour. So... where are the three other kittens? I go back to the kitchen. It's really coming down hard. And then I see them, or at least two of them: they're clinging with their claws to the bottom of the screen, on the wrong side of course, meowing to high heaven, wondering how to get in, even as the rain is slashing at them with the force of a real storm.
I go out and seize one before she gets away (the other flies off into the pounding rain). I put her wet little body on the porch, where she is greeted by Stop Sign. The next I check, the two little guys are snuggling with Mama the Beast in their lair (Ed and I put a blanket into the pet carrier and covered it with a quilt. It stands on the porch. Stop Sign has resisted going inside, but now with the kittens, she takes that risk.)
So, two kittens and Stop Sign on the porch, two kittens missing for now, eight cats in the sheep shed. And the rains keep coming down. Hard.
We eat breakfast in the kitchen. I have so many last minute animal instructions for my breakfast sweetie. I doubt Ed will follow any of them. We each have our own way of tending to animals, to stuff in general. Neither is better than the other.
Why "last minute?" Oh, today is the day I take off for Paris. But not until after I spend the afternoon with Sparrow and Snowdrop.
(rains stop, sun comes out... will the leaves be gone in a week?)
(Sparrow, upright and on the move!)
(Snowdrop: how do you pack up art work?)
(I made an airplane!)
(at home: stealing cheddar bunnies)
(looking at the two youngest kittens..)
Stay well and I'll see you in a few days, all you little Midwestern babes, cats, kids!
As for Paris -- it's just until Sunday. I can't really take more days off, nor do I want to be away from my clan here (I speak of people, not cats and certainly not chickens!). It's a meaningful trip because I'm cutting back on the frequency of my ocean crossings. So, for example, no December trip this year. And no Poland for now. That extra leg just adds chaos. I don't want chaos. And here's another special element -- my lovely and loyal friend from Warsaw is coming to Paris to join me there for a few days. That's truly special. Time, plenty of time to just walk the streets of that city together.
So, in the evening, I wait to catch my flight to Detroit, from where I will be flying to Amsterdam (unfortunately I follow the cheaper air connections and this one trumped a direct flight), and finally from there, I'll fly to Paris, arriving in that beautiful city tomorrow, toward evening.
My next post should be from Paris.
Instead, this morning I make my way to the kitchen when it is still dark. Overcast skies, late October. What do you expect from this brooding combo... I glance out and there is Stop Sign, the grand mama, on the porch steps. And some movement in the background. Oh crap, have the teenagers invaded her space?
I leave a bowl of food for her, then go out, hustling the teenagers, who have descended on the farmhouse path, jostling, rubbing, nibbling. Hey, Dance, that's my leg! Keep your nibbles to yourself!
As I get to the sheep shed, I see Happy, the rooster, darting by. Say what? Shouldn't you be in the coop? He's chasing the hapless Peach who never really likes his advances. Damn it. Ed must have forgotten to put them in the coop for the night. It had been an unusual Sunday and stripped of our by-the-clock routines, we floundered.
I count the chickens. Phew! They survived.
After feeding the teenagers and Yo-Yo the babe, I go back to the farmhouse and look out again. There's no mistake. One of Stop Sign's wee kittens figured out how to follow her onto the porch. Well that's a relief. I feel that they are safer and warmer here. And close to the food source and away from the herd of teens. For now.
And just as I consider dozing off again, I hear the pounding on the roof. A regular old downpour. So... where are the three other kittens? I go back to the kitchen. It's really coming down hard. And then I see them, or at least two of them: they're clinging with their claws to the bottom of the screen, on the wrong side of course, meowing to high heaven, wondering how to get in, even as the rain is slashing at them with the force of a real storm.
I go out and seize one before she gets away (the other flies off into the pounding rain). I put her wet little body on the porch, where she is greeted by Stop Sign. The next I check, the two little guys are snuggling with Mama the Beast in their lair (Ed and I put a blanket into the pet carrier and covered it with a quilt. It stands on the porch. Stop Sign has resisted going inside, but now with the kittens, she takes that risk.)
So, two kittens and Stop Sign on the porch, two kittens missing for now, eight cats in the sheep shed. And the rains keep coming down. Hard.
We eat breakfast in the kitchen. I have so many last minute animal instructions for my breakfast sweetie. I doubt Ed will follow any of them. We each have our own way of tending to animals, to stuff in general. Neither is better than the other.
Why "last minute?" Oh, today is the day I take off for Paris. But not until after I spend the afternoon with Sparrow and Snowdrop.
(rains stop, sun comes out... will the leaves be gone in a week?)
(Sparrow, upright and on the move!)
(Snowdrop: how do you pack up art work?)
(I made an airplane!)
(at home: stealing cheddar bunnies)
(looking at the two youngest kittens..)
Stay well and I'll see you in a few days, all you little Midwestern babes, cats, kids!
As for Paris -- it's just until Sunday. I can't really take more days off, nor do I want to be away from my clan here (I speak of people, not cats and certainly not chickens!). It's a meaningful trip because I'm cutting back on the frequency of my ocean crossings. So, for example, no December trip this year. And no Poland for now. That extra leg just adds chaos. I don't want chaos. And here's another special element -- my lovely and loyal friend from Warsaw is coming to Paris to join me there for a few days. That's truly special. Time, plenty of time to just walk the streets of that city together.
So, in the evening, I wait to catch my flight to Detroit, from where I will be flying to Amsterdam (unfortunately I follow the cheaper air connections and this one trumped a direct flight), and finally from there, I'll fly to Paris, arriving in that beautiful city tomorrow, toward evening.
My next post should be from Paris.
