The front is big and black, predicts that the early part of winter will be severe. Look out east coast, as the storm rises from the south, working its way up the coast!
Remember this old house? Still working on it.
I cannot say “we,” but he has been working onward with this house. Walls have been stripped to the board, windows removed, flooring taken up. Electrical wiring (mostly) removed. Exterior siding and tin roof removed.
This has been an experience and a long walk down memory lane for this man. Perhaps just short of a spiritual experience as he tears down this childhood home, to prepare for our future.
I’d love to take this into the woods and become Thoreau. Wouldn’t you?
Cats. Can you do it? Can you truly invite them into your home as a guest?
No. I’m afraid not. You invite them to rule. They dictate. Even at a tiny age. This is what we have endured and enjoyed for the last 3 weeks.
They were “dropping like flies” in the milking parlor. Kittens mixed in with cows haven’t got much of a chance. The cows are gentle, yes, but they are BIG. And kittens tend to get lost outdoors. So, as a last ditch effort, as we found, we brought into the house (even though forbidden by the farmer, the farmer brought them in)!
This is Olive and Rambo. There is always someone mewing! Olive can be quite vocal. And she talks in her throat quite a bit too, when not commanding.
We have learned to tiptoe so as to not wake them. (I have dubbed them screaming meanies–they hear and they come running, they all start mewing and trying to climb upon you! You hide in the bedroom, hoping they will fall asleep, and the last 3 nights, they have found us anyway, and climbed into the bed with us, I gave in, what can I say?)
Very smart, they took right to their facilities and have eaten quite well. We spent time on the internet to try to figure it out, kitten milk vs. cow milk and digestive systems, etc.
Being so little, we have had to teach them to bathe. They get bathed daily. So far they don’t know that cats and kittens don’t like water. And then they get a blow dry.
They are front and center on love.
Or waiting for it.
They have warmed their way into our hearts!
They all will have new homes today. And we will have kitten liberation.
But we will miss them, just a little bit!
I got stuck in the 60s tonight. I watched one of my favorites: The Newlywed Game. All of them. On YouTube. I admired the bride’s hair: the big beehive ‘do. The mascara and eye shadow. The California lifestyle.
Do you remember that game? We would play it by the hour. You’d draw a chart, naming your choices of places to live, boys’ names (to marry), a car to drive and a career. I cannot remember the counting formula, perhaps one of my readers can. Anyway, count away and you’d find your destiny.
I think I always had choices of California, Florida, or … I don’t remember having any other! Maybe I chose Hawaii. But certainly not my home town.
I’m not sure of his profession, but it was the man’s profession, for sure.
I do not remember the rest. I’m sure a color and a car were significant.
I will always remember how I thought the best place in the world had to be California. I was definitely a California girl. In my dreams.
I’m 61. My dreams have changed. Oh sure, I have visited California. A Californian friend even stated that there is no other place in the world to live! But I do admit, i love my small village I returned to, I love my farm and I love (even more) my farmer, who makes life worthwhile and every day a priceless treasure! (Thank you, Ross).
Still, there is a little girl…and her little girl dreams….
A friend pointed out to me an article in The Conservationist, a circular that encompasses New York State wildlife. An Emerson fan, she thought of me when the author of an article spoke of Emerson. Naturally drawn to Emerson, I looked up the article, Chomping at Nature’s Bit by Eli Knapp. There it was. “Adapt the pace of nature, her secret is patience.”
I can agree with this concept. Nature is very patient. She wait for us to mess up, then she calmly takes over. Paved roads break up while she takes over. Brush grows up in fields that the farmer has kept plowed, our neglect becomes her tapestry.
I have forbidden the groundhog hunt here on our civilized patch. Build more garden, share it, I say (I’m not the one building the garden, easy for me to say). Then again, if you need to remove them, do not ever let me know. I cannot bear the thought. I’m definitely a human heart here, while they live on instinct, and the reality of the world is that, if we want to keep our crops for harvest, we need to limit their “help” in harvesting!
Back to the subject at hand, Emerson and Nature. I encourage you to read his essay. Absorb it. Be patient with it.
In patience, I seek a word from this essay to inspire you, my readers, to seek. Difficult at the least, I send you this: Nature is loved by what is best in us. It is loved as the city of God. I dare not say more, at least, not now. Emerson is difficult in that we cannot take mere quotes and have them realized in and of themselves, they must be coupled with the rest of the essay. The one thing I have learned from Emerson can bring my defeat as his follower: Lay this volume down. You had better never see my essays than to be warped by their attraction out of your own orbit and be made my satellite. Then let me lay this volume down, and step outdoors where my dog absorbs nature, she is my lesson. As are the birds, the groundhog, and the breeze which blows against my face.