A birthday treat of mice and walking

It was Maggie's birthday so her husband decided to do something special. He told her they were going away for a few days and emailed to ask if they could come visit. A secret. She wasn't to know. But we knew that she was coming so when she arrived here Maurice caught her a perfect fresh mouse, long whiskered and beautiful, for her birthday. She stepped out of the car and into the world of ginger.

Everyone came out to say hello, first Elmo, then Kiffer, still guarding the nest in the mop bucket. Pixie perched on the sofa and then we took Maggie for a walk, to see the top of the hill and the foxgloves. We were all most impressed as Maggie's cat is the genius who pooed in the tumble drier, which sounds like some kind of alchemy, for we do not know what a tumble drier is.

Pixie had a cuddle and later I came to say hello and sit and purr, and even Max came along in his stripped tabby grandeur to wave a tail and twitch a whisker.

So, happy birthday Maggie, with love from all of us.
I still think he should have wrapped the mouse.

Still life with lizard and cat hair

nb: No animals or reptiles were harmed during the making of this image.

Music

Six cats purring in harmony, night time lullaby, a rolling song of contentment for the stars, a small wave of sound through the darkness.

Sunshine through ginger ears

The sun shines warm though the wind is cold.

On top of the hill we walk together while a great buzzard wheels and mews then hangs on the edge of the wind. I wish for wings.

The rock is becoming a stage for flowers. Foxgloves grow tall and bees dip in and out of their speckled purple cups.

Stars of purple-blue squil still hold a reminder of spring. Soon the cuckoo will be quiet again, then away for another year. For now the sky is stitched with a pattern of swifts in flight. We sit on the cusp of summer.

Secrets

I am Kiffer and I am happy and this is my new home and I am wondering if I am in cat heaven. I know secrets. I know that under this bucket is a nest of mice, tiny and pink, blind and squeaking.

And I know that this lion's head marks the spot where the great Arthur is buried, giant of a ginger cat who walked and stalked the hills bringing terror to all rats and mice. Noble cat who died too soon, too short a life for one so painted like the sun setting on a clear summer day. When he was alive he burned bright and now he is the stuff of legend.
Martha says you can still hear him if you listen. His voice sings with the call of the buzzard as it wheels, high in the sky.

Tonight is the full moon and we will sing with all the ghost cats of the village, on the ruined cottage walls, in praise of the moon and in praise of the claw and the teeth that are sharp and the eyes that see clear in the dark. And the mice will hide in their homes in fear and awe.

Almost

Chasing the moon and the setting sun

Late evening, sun sinking, toad in the green lane moist from the evening dew.

Over the moorland with golden gorse and up to the rock where the wind was hushed.

Past the witness stone to the top of the hill where dreams are made.

The moon looked down from the clear blue, gathering her cloak of night behind her as the colour deepened in the sky.

Majestic on the rock Pixie watched for kites, but if any where about they flew low.

Small birds busied themselves for the night to come and on the far horizon the sun bleached all colour from the sky, waiting for the cold moon to catch her.

Now that we are famous

The Dragon Lady said that we are famous, so now when we go out we wear sunglasses, incase we are recognized.

Looking for Dragons

The Dragonlady came to visit yesterday and she walked with us to the top of the hill where it was hot. She lives in another country and knows a wild lynx who lives in a cage. And she paints too, lots of dragons.

On top of the hill Pixie and Elmo shared a pool of shade.

The on the way back Pixie played with the sunshine and fern patterns.

Later Elmo didn't come home. He wasn't back for supper and he wasn't back for bed, and when She woke in the night from troubled dreams there was only Pixie and Maurice on the sofa of cats. No sign of Elmo anywhere.
She was so worried as we seldom stay away from home for so long. But then early in the morning, with a curling of his whiskers, in walks Elmo with not a care in the world, tired as only a cat can be from a long night of adventure.
When we asked him where he had been he smiled.
"Looking for dragons, " he said.
When we asked if he found any he just purred, fast asleep and dreaming.

The Moon comes..

..and now it is night and we walk the bounds of the village, as we do every night, clockwise as withershines brings all kinds of things. The moon is bright, no veil of silk covers her light tonight and the sky a deep blue. Tonight Kiffer walks too for the first time with us through the moonlight, and races ahead and leaps onto walls. For the first time Kiffer sees his shadow, his moonshadow, belonging only to him. No light obscures the shadow cat as it walks with him.
Stars shine and all is good.

Before the moon comes we are domestic and wild.

In the morning we are domestic cats sleeping cosy on the covers of chintz.

But later that day we walk. In the heat of the day we walk, over the hill and across the rock where the squil grows and dots the green with a lighter blue and down to the deep green where the bluebells grow.

It is hot. We walk panting like jungle tigers and seek the shade.

She has brought a book and lies in the long grass to read of swans and nettles and cloud castles and love, but it is too hot to read so we help Her by sitting on the words.

And over the hill and down through the meadow where the skylarks sing and buzzards trail over the sky we make our way to the stepping stone bridge, so hot that the dog lies in the stream for coolness of water.

Then home, up the hill, to rest again before the moon comes.

Small words of night

Tonight it is as if a thin veil of silk is stretched across the sky and stitched with ink dark clouds and stars. Behind the veil a bright white light of crescent moon burns. The garden tastes of honeysuckle flowers warmed by early summer sun.

Relax

Pixie: Did you see Kiffer?
Maurice: Good hunter. Tired now. Having a little sleep I think.
Pixie: Seems to have settled in well.
Maurice: Certainly seems to know the meaning of the word relax.

Dragonflies

Meanwhile back in the studio dragons flew. We spent the warm day scouring the bushes trying to find these flying lizards. We found birds and shrews and voles and mice. We found butterflies and bees and bright winged creatures,but we could not find a dragon.

Twilight walking

Across the farm and up to the green lane and Kiffer came too. It was late and the light was falling out of the day and stars were beginning to shine. The sky was a velvet blue and in the lane the branches of the thorn trees were like sharp bars.

We did not go far, though Kiffer wanted to go on to the top of the hill. This is the time of foxes and badgers and it was Kiffer's first time away from the house. Coming back down the hill she lingered in the lane and made deamon eyes in the dark behind Pixie.