Friday - 189th

The skies cleared of milky haze, the temperatures dropped, the cats are growing a thicker coat, the rooster is molting. In other words, a rather typical mid September day in south central Wisconsin.
















Definitely inside. With a blanket on my knees. Just like a real old person!






There is a point at which you give up your search for a missing cat. I guess we haven't reached it yet, because at around noon, when it warmed up enough for me to throw on a hoodie and feel at peace with the weather, Ed and I once more set out to canvas Stoughton -- the place where one of the kitties by accident escaped from her new owner's garage.

This time we walked more broadly: through newer blocks, older neighborhoods, then again in the woods and fields beyond the town's development, calling out for her and shaking a jug of crunchies as we walked along.

We met up with the owner (well, she was just becoming the owner when the accidental release happened) and she told us of her supreme efforts -- in addition to posted signs with cat photos, she has set up a have-a-heart trap with a recorded meowing voice of the sister by it. I think she is more of a believer than we are at this point, but hey, we really appreciate her efforts. And we're happy to hear that Gigi (aka Calico) has bonded well with her. That part of the adoption at least seems to have gone very well.

A few photos for you: of butterflies chasing each other over the meadows just outside town...











And then from our drive home, looking at the fields where our corn farmer keeps a herd of cattle. Very photogenic cattle though I think today it's that great Midwestern sky that captures our attention.






At home, we check out the new orchard. For the flowers...






And the pears. Doing well!





Evening. Cat searching and cooler temps make the appetite soar. How about a double portion of fish in a fresh dill sauce along with new potatoes? And a salad? A very large salad? Even after that, there will be, for sure, room for popcorn.

But it is a sad evening too. Whatever your political convictions, surely you'll be moved by the passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. And if you are a lawyer, a woman lawyer, a woman lawyer of a past generation, you'll be saddened but also proud to have shared a professional affiliation with this magnificent powerhouse of a person. I surely am that.

Thursday - 188th

I suppose I felt that I had some unfinished business left in Stoughton. Yesterday's quick dash to check if indeed the missing cat was hanging out by the school building seemed incomplete. If she was that close to her point of escape (just about four blocks away), then clearly she isn't straying far. We should canvas the neighborhood more thoroughly.

It's cooler today. Say good bye to summer dresses. Too, I hate to say it, but the garden is drying up again. Well, never mind. We're likely to have frost one of these nights. After that, it's a mad dash to the end of the growing season.

For now, things still look, well, nicely autumnal.












And it's just warm enough for cheepers to enjoy a sun dappled rest under the lilac...






... and for us to set our breakfast on the porch. Ed is at a new place at the table. Dance has taken possession of his usual chair. No, he will not move a cat to make himself more comfortable.






And then we drive back to Stoughton, where we walk up and down all the blocks around the school where the kittie was allegedly spotted yesterday. I call for her. I ask if people have seen a cat.

No luck.

I offer no photos of the walk. It's a suburban neighborhood and it looks like any other suburban neighborhood in America, displayin some houses you like, others -- less so. We do find the people we ask about the missing kitten to be uniformly helpful. They want to aid in finding her. They take my phone number,  offer to put out food for her (happy eating, oh raccoons of Stoughton!), ask after her name. I appreciate that. It feels good to be treated kindly and not like the nut that you are, walking up and down blocks every day, shouting out "kittie" in a high pitched voice (this particular cat always responded to that high pitched squeal back at the farmette).

I suppose we're letting go of the search, albeit slowly. If someone calls with news of her, we'll go out again. But random walks and calls seem increasingly pointless. Even as we can't seem to give up. What if she is just a block or two from where we walked??


In a bit of good news, the sister cat, whom we called Calico but the new owner is calling Gigi, is integrating well in her new home. I've heard words such as "she is really sweet" and they warm my heart.


No late night escapades tonight. No hurried searches, no frantic driving into a foggy night. Just reheated leftovers and a sweetly calm evening at home.

Wednesday - 187th

Is it the last breath of summer? It sure feels like it. Warm, so pleasantly warm. Still milky blue skies, but oh, that warmth!











Breakfast is on the porch and maybe you are tired of me writing this every day, but believe me, it wont last. Is it our last one? Maybe.






We must take a walk. Just to our local park. We've been there a million times, but, as Ed points out, with each month it's different. Besides, it's hunting season once again, so the wildlife trails we favor for a longer hike are not that fun. There's something offputting about bumping into people with rifles during your meditative walk. So, local park it is.

But we actually discover a new path! All these years and we never saw it. It hugs the cornfield at the outset.











Then it veers into the woods. Definitely the path less traveled.






Ed likes this, of course. I prefer the sunnier stretch. This one.






Such a gorgeous walk though. And not a soul. Not a single person on any of the trails.

(Sandhill cranes on the motorbike ride to the park: again, I know they are a repetition here, on Ocean, but I'll never tire of photographing these lovely birds. Even at a distance.)






In the late afternoon, I have another outside/distanced visit with Snowdrop. Just as I pack up a bag of books and activities, a bowl of fruits, some eggs for my daughter, I get a call.
Hello?
Yeah, about that posted notice... It's a kid. He's leaving school in Stoughton. He's seeing Cutie. He recognizes her from the posters the prospective owner had put up around town.
Are you sure it's the same cat?
Yeah. You know, like the photo you posted.
Where is she?
By the trees, on the left side of the school. She's been there for a while.

Ed is on a work call. I have my sweet granddaughter expecting me. I call my daughter. Will Snowdrop mind if I'm an hour late?
She doesn't wear a watch. Go for it.

Ed uses my smart phone to get back to his Zoom meeting, I scream the car toward Stoughton.

Seventeen minutes later we're there.

But Cutie is not.

I see the trees. I search and call all around the blocks of the school. I ask kids, construction workers, residents working in yards. Nothing.


I drop Ed off at home and go over to spend a wonderful, if somewhat late part of the day distancing with Snowdrop.






Will we continue this into the cold weather? Who can tell. One day at a time!






Toward the end, I let Sparrow chase me up and down the deck...






And in the evening, I return to an empty house. Ed's out biking. Cats are stretched out on the porch, all is quiet.

Time to bake a frittata. Broccoli and mushrooms from the Funghi Farmers. Corn, left over from Stoneman farm. And lots of cheese. Does anyone doubt that cheese, crusted under a broiler, is like a balm? A wonderful, reassuring piece of melty goodness?






Such beautiful weather here today. So very tough to read about all the pain on the battered coasts of the continent. And elsewhere.

Time to exhale. Ed wont stay awake long after biking. Ed, can we please have some popcorn?

Tuesday - 186th

In the car, I turned the high beams on. The roads were completely empty. If you opened the window, you'd hear only yourself pushing forward against darkness. Every few minutes, we would dip into a low spot and bands of fog would blur the road before us.

You think the fog will get worse coming back? -- I asked.
Not likely.

It was midnight and we were sometimes speeding, sometimes crawling through the patchy fog, heading once again to the town of Stoughton. Ed had read several pieces on how to search for a lost cat and almost without fail, the authors, all who had lost a cat at some points, at many points in their lives, recommended beating the bushes when darkness fell on your community.

We leave the car at the apartment complex where Cutie, on her way to being adopted, was accidentally released into the wild. Or into the suburbs. Or is it the downtown? Or commercial hub of this town to the south east of Madison? Who knows where she is. She's been on the loose since Sunday. But those sage authors of cat search pieces claim that if your cat is shy, she will not go far. She will hide in bushes, not feeling herself to be safe to search for the familiar. So we go out into the dark and quiet world, calling out, not too loudly, hoping that we wont wake residents and scare the daylights out of sleeping folk with our roving flashlight and muffled voices.

We canvas the neighborhood around the apartment building. If she had been hiding there, she would have heard us. No one meows, no little kitten runs out from under a bush.

After an hour of this, we drive home.


The morning is almost perfectly sunny and bright. We should be having deep blue skies, but there is a haze. The smoke from the western states has reached Wisconsin, giving us milky blue-ish skies. Ed swears he smells the burn in the air. I think he must be imagining it. Still, there's no doubt that our skies are showing the extent of the drift of the plumes of smoke.


The garden? Oh, it's in its Fall phase. I like to look at it and admire it for what it is. Different from summer abundance, but nonetheless peacefully welcoming.
















We eat breakfast on the porch of course. It's a beautiful day for it!






And in the afternoon, he and I go back to the edges of Stoughton. It's a 20 minute drive. If we weren't there, we'd for sure be taking an extensive walk in one of our parks today. Why not hike here instead, even if the likelihood of finding Cutie is very very small? A purposeful walk! In the weak but warm sunshine. Until the voice grows hoarse from calling out to the little kittie.
















Home again. We walk back to the new orchard, where the bees are liking the meadow flowers and the pears are ripening nicely.











(crab apple visitor; it's been a summer of many, many monarchs)






Evening quiet. We wont be driving back to search tonight. We're both tired. The prospective new owner has put up pictures of Cutie all over Stoughton. Maybe someone will spot her. But realistically, the chances of her returning to the side of her sister are very very small.

Reheated soup, still good for the soul. Followed by popcorn, which is good for just about any mood you may find yourself in today or any day! Eat it warm, with sprinkled light shavings of parmesan cheese!  So simple. So delicious.

Monday - 185th

You know the saying -- "it's like looking for a needle in a haystack." It implies an impossibility in the search effort. But I think it should be revised. I think if you have time, you can actually find a needle in a haystack. Perhaps magnets would help. Eventually you may well find that needle. So I have a better saying which more accurately describes the futility of a search -- "it's like looking for a kitten on the loose in Stoughton."

You'd like an explanation perhaps. Okay.

We woke up to warmer weather. There is a promise of some sunshine. All in all, not a bad start to the week. Considering how horrible things are in California, Oregon and Washington, I think we're doing exceptionally well here.






I walk over to feed the five big cats. (We'd lost one recently -- one of the Friendlys. One morning he just did not show up. It's a mean world out there!)  I throw a glance at the writer's shed where the two little girls had been hanging out for the past month. We're cleaning it up now. We're fairly confident that their new adoptive owner will bond with them. She's determined. They're sweet. It has to be a good outcome!

I come inside and start fixing breakfast.

Nina! -- this from Ed upstairs. I note the "Nina." Can't be good.

It isn't good. Turns out that the adoptive person brought the two kitties home yesterday and, on the advice of her friend, decided to take some measures to protect herself from kittie fleas. Now, since Ed combs the cats routinely, he'll swear to you that none of the cats have fleas, but I suppose people get antsy about cats picked up on Craigslist. For some reason the anti-flea measures were conducted upon arrival, in the large garage of their apartment building.

Why was anyone surprised that when the carrier door was opened, one of the kitties -- Cutie -- escaped.

The new owner did not want to bother us with this news last night. But I guess this morning, she felt she had no choice but to let us know. Cutie is gone.

She tells us someone posted on social media that they'd seen a cat roughly like Cutie hiding in some bushes downtown. Could we come out and help look?

We eat a quick breakfast...





... and drive down to Stoughton.

It's a pointless search, really. By this morning, the cat could be anywhere. But, thinking that we may get lucky, Ed and I set out to walk far back of the apartment complex, past vast commercial venues, up and down main streets, down to the town's periphery, through forests and meadows, all around the parks, and along the side streets of Stoughton -- a town of some 13,000 -- me calling to the little girl with a voice and name that she has long recognized as signaling food and friendship.

We walked and shouted and walked some more...























I grew hoarse, the weather warmed, but there is no sign of Cutie. This is no surprise, of course. Our country is large, there are bushes and trees from here to the Atlantic and Pacific. Even if she had been determined to stay within the borders of Stoughton, she would have six square miles to navigate. And beyond that -- forests and cornfields and the rest of Wisconsin and America.

There is no happy ending, of course. Calico is crying for her sister and her sister is, for the first time in her life, looking civilization in the eye. (She has never ventured beyond our farmette and the forest across the road from us.)

May it treat her kindly. Sigh...


(On the porch, the big cats rest...)








In better news, I have a late afternoon Zoom meet up with these two...






Each of us has had a share of tough moments recently. I surely have had an easy time of it compared to too many others. Still, the three of us are good at aiming for the upbeat mode. On most days, we can find plenty to smile about.


Evening. I had big cooking plans, really I did. Maybe later in the week. For now, I cook up some soup for the soul. With rainbow chard and cannellini beans and lots of onions. Sprinkled with grated parmesan. Really good for the soul!

Sunday - 184th

Of course, if we were to disassemble and clean the stove yesterday, today its cousin, the refrigerator had to follow suit. I mean, you can't leave one looking dusty and forlorn while the other glistens and sparkles. (Perhaps that's a stretch: it's merely free of grime.)

We did this after a porch breakfast. (Garden roses!)






(Friendly the cat is sometimes too true to her/his name!)






I must admit to being impatient with the weather. We've been longing for an end to the cold and the rain and the morning was stubbornly cloudy.






And then, magically, the sunshine came out to greet us once again.

Time to finally have my reading/drawing visit with Snowdrop, in her yard, with social distancing. Some aspects of this are very easy, some are tough. I'm sure you can guess where the heartbreaks lie...






Still, with the sun on my back and my eyes on the little girl  -- I feel like I've been handed not a small amount of gifts right now.






And then things got a little busy. I return home. Once again Ed has caged the two kitties and we hand them over to a prospective owner. We have great hopes that this time things will be better.

And now I'm even more busy. Time to prepare Sunday dinner! Once it's ready, I pack it up and I go back to the young family's home. This time, Sparrow is up and he and I get to have a socially distanced encounter.






I'm going to say that it's better than nothing. That I can make him laugh, even at a distance.






But we're coasting here. All of us. Finding ways to make it more or less good. And it is good! I mean, downright grand to have these few minutes, chasing each other in hats, happy, happy that the rains have finally passed.

And then I come back to eat with Ed.

This may seem like a slightly chaotic day, but honestly, the weather was so on our side, that we allowed ourselves more than one moment of contentment. And the grandkids are all really fine and the little kitties are in (one hopes) their new home. For us, that's about as good as it gets right now!