While the Mice Have Their Backs Turned...

The cats are settling in very well. They appear to sleep most of the day but as I move from room to room, so do they; I just don't see it happen. Perhaps they sleep walk.


What is clear is that they do move about during the day. Harry’s collar went missing and I tore the place apart looking for it. He seemed interested in the search and when I'd given up, it appeared smack in the middle of the kitchen floor.
I swear Harry smirked.

The freshly cut roses were arranged in a bowl on the coffee table. I scarcely had time to leave the room before the vase was empty and the roses were strewn everywhere.

In the bathroom some unidentified culprit yanked on the toilet paper until it was off the roll and neatly piled on the floor.

It’s only a matter of time before they learn to write blogs.

Progress

The work continues to give this "new" house my imprint. I can't do much about that army barracks look until the shutters are in place and the Boston ivy begins to climb up the bare walls.

The roses are gorgeous work horses. I gave them probably their first pruning ever in the spring and there is a long way to go but they are beautiful, blowzy and their scent is wonderful.


The pond is a joy. The fish are growing although it's hard to spot them in that dark, mysterious water. No matter--it's a lovely surprise when they do appear. The embankment is planted and I try to stifle my unreal desire for instant lush growth despite the heat and watering restrictions.


We can walk out to the deck from the kitchen without facing the neighbors doing the same thing. Steve the writer/carpenter devised this barrier and we're all happier.


Summer--long may she reign.

Sunday Morning

I took my walk shortly after six this morning and the town was mine. Even the dog walkers were still in bed.

I heard that delightful whooshing sound that announced hot air balloons and sure enough, three of them floated overhead. I like this shot of one playing footsies with the streetlight.


The swamp looked particularly friendly; deep inside are the footprints of a long-gone homestead and after that mysterious owner departed, the local kids used to make beautiful, private forts to do their daydreaming. Eventually the builders took over the land all around the swamp and now the Canada Geese and four-legged critters are in possession.


One thing I know, the skunks remain. That unmistakeable scent wafts in the air and contributes to my quickened walking pace.

This road is a hazard for pedestrians five days a week but on weekends it could be inhabited by ghosts.


Here is some pond progress. There is a tiny waterfall trickling down to the right of Steve. He was a little testy yesterday when I picked out lovely big rocks for him to haul to the car. I think he objected to the mud sucking in his feet while he tried to maneuver his way to the road. He soldiered on, bless him. Just one or two more scavenging trips and we'll be done with rocks. For now.

To The Birthday Boy

Today number three son has a birthday.

I believe Steve was some sort of mystic in another life and he is like a human barometer about human emotions.

Recently a dear friend of his was deeply disturbed about her missing adult son and during that time, Steve became very ill.

Harry kept vigil at his bedroom window.


Prior to Steve's illness, a red- winged blackbird had been arriving at the house each morning and battered his poor beak endlessly on the window. During the three days Steve was sick, the bird sat silently on the fence and occasionally sang his strange song.

The missing man was found dead and when he learned the news Steve abruptly recovered and his full strength returned.

The blackbird is still visiting daily but he seldom throws himself at the window.

Happiness to the birthday boy and peace to the lost soul who is to be buried today.

Sunday Report

Steve the wonder boy/man is sick with a cold. I considered making him some chicken broth despite the intense heat and humidity, but my maternal sacrifice mode didn’t kick in. He requested hot chocolate for lunch. That was enough sacrifice for one day.


Despite his feeble state, he managed to convert me from inveterate list maker with to-dos listed on scraps of paper to writing everything neatly into the planner that accompanies me everywhere. It lacks that teetering- on- the- tightrope thrill of searching for critical information written on the back of a gum wrapper but I’ll cope.

The cats are settling in nicely and are now eating. They certainly haven’t lost an ounce, I can tell you that. Picking up the Red Point is like hauling around a bag of cement.

They like to be combed and this is a surprise. My last two cats would have willingly been sacrificed to lions before submitting to the comb.

The new cats are now officially named and there is no going back:
This one is Maximilian but will answer to Max.


This one is Harry Bellafonte and answers to Harry. I wanted the name of the most gorgeous brown skinned man I could recall from my younger days and Harry’s face flashed before my eyes.


So how was your day?

I'm A new Mom-Sort Of..

Yesterday I went to the Humane society and formally adopted two Himalayan cats. They are in need of combing but they are beauties. Here they are in the adoption room.

this one is temporarily named keshara.




The Sealpoint lurking under a chair is temporarily named Banjari. They'll let me know if they like the names.


Once I got them home, they raced for the basement to locate good hiding spaces and occasionally popped upstairs to get a nice neck scratch before heading back to their hidey holes.

Last night I woke up to find one sitting on my pillow and I seemed to be chewing tail fur. That tells me they're still with us.

I'm so anxious to cuddle them and tell them about their new home but you know cats--they decided where and when.

Tonight I'm trying the old trick I used on my other cats whenever I moved them to a new house--I'm buttering their paws.

I'm A New Mom--Sort of

Yesterday I went to the Humane society and formally adopted two Himalayan cats. They are in need of combing but they are beauties. Here they are in the adoption room.

this one is temporarily named keshara.




The Sealpoint lurking under a chair is temporarily named Banjari. They'll let me know if they like the names.


Once I got them home, they raced for the basement to locate good hiding spaces and occasionally popped upstairs to get a nice neck scratch before heading back to their hidey holes.

Last night I woke up to find one sitting on my pillow and I seemed to be chewing tail fur. That tells me they're still with us.

I'm so anxious to cuddle them and tell them about their new home but you know cats--they decided where and when.

Tonight I'm trying the old trick I used on my other cats whenver I moved them to a new house--I'm buttering their paws.

Steve's Career Change

My son Steve flew to Thailand at the peak of Canadian winter so that he could contemplate his future and when the Ontario snow disappeared and Bangkok temperatures soared into the high 40’s C, he returned.

Now he needs some quiet time to see if he can make a living at writing instead of carpentry and we have worked out a barter: his carpentry talents in exchange for food and shelter, leaving him plenty of important writing time.

Anything he does is done with total commitment and the energy of ten strong men.

Each morning after breakfast, we sit down with our planners and discuss the day. We prioritize my creative list of construction/repair needs, then he takes the rest of the morning to write and devotes himself to my list after lunch.


I am in down-to-earth heaven right now, not having to worry about the things I can't do myself and as we're both loners at heart we don't have to chit chat unless we're in the mood.

There wasn't a front step and the step down was a killer. Now there's a front step.


New deck entry steps.


Attaching planters to the side wall.


Cutting the deck stairs.


He took time for a coffee break after digging in the new pond.


At the end of the day he returns to his laptop and writes. Stay tuned.

Liberace lives In Old London Town

The Thames always looks muddy and unappealing but the water is really clean and the muddy look is caused because it has a silt bottom. Would a tour guide lie to us? Here are the parliament buildings with big Ben at the right, caught on our Thames boat tour.

The Ravens at the Tower of London are extremely tame and will sit and pose as long as a camera is in sight.


This is the crooked house in Windsor, in the center of the picture. I have an unerring ability to find a good shot like this and presto-- the house looks almost straight.


And here is my travel mate, Pioneer Melissa, wondering why Liberace could be so short and have a better wardrobe than she has. Them’s the breaks kid.