At night the rain pounded windows from all directions. Lightening flashed, the wind howled. We had one thought -- surely the ice outside will melt!
Stubborn ice: it did not melt. The landscape is a Dalmation pattern of mud and ice. The paths are slippery, even as the rain keeps coming down.
This, of course, is what early spring looks like. I keep lighting candles and thinking up ways to make breakfast even more cozy. Today, for example, though we have reheated croissants, I bring out my tiny jar of jam made from Savoie wild blueberries. Heaven!
We talk about Pancake. She (he?) appears to be now a farmette fixture. Here every day, hanging out in the barn in bad weather, meowing by our door when hungry (then scampering away when we move toward her). Clearly we have got ourselves a seventh cat.
The issue is of course whether we should try to trap her and spay her. She is far more skittish than the others. Too, how do we set the trap for just her, without luring the others into it? Moreover, are we sure she isn't somebody's cat? We now have a whole development of houses nearby. She could be hanging here for the excitement and some additional food. The more we see her, the more we doubt that she has owners. Still, we need to spend some time observing and figuring out the next step. The other cats aren't fighting her, but nor are they thrilled with her now constant presence. We'll see where this all takes us.
The rain is breaking up my string of high energy walking days, but this is probably a good thing. The knee right now is very unhappy. Ed says it just needs a rest. The doc had said "do as much as feels right." None of this provides clear answers as to how much I can use it, but I have to say, the rainy pause is a welcome event.
I pick up a radiant Snowdrop: I love this rainy weather! -- she proclaims. Sweet child always punches away at the roadblocks to happiness.
I ask her about her day. About the recesses. About the boy she sits next to. He's been dueling with her (playfully) for months now.
Oh, we got a new seating chart today. Now I'm sitting next to R (a boy) and across from A (another boy).
You're surrounded by boys!
Turns out this is a good thing, in her estimation. She likes them, they like her. It's a more straightforward relationship than with many of the girls, who are already jockeying toward establishing their territorial spaces. I mumble something about her having experience with boys, what with two brothers at home.
She pipes in -- And (insert nickname for Ed) at the farmette!
Considering that they often play punching games or worse, I'm not sure I'd view him as an inspiring model on how to treat boys, but to her, he is a confidence builder. If she can handle big strong Ed at the farmhouse, she can certainly manage little A and R back in her classroom.
This afternoon though, we don't have him here to mess with. He's picking up fifty pound bags of cracked corn at Farm and Fleet for the cheepers. You'd think this would be a bit much for a guy who's just come off of some knee and back issues. You would be wrong.
