Monday, March 19, 2007
All day we stayed in, curled round the warmth of the house until evening. She listened to music, a tale about a red cat, and She painted, .
The sun was sharp and the wind was biting. The Wind Cat had called his friend from the North, and the North Wind Cat has claws that are sharper.
But in the evening we walked in bright sunlight to the top of the hill where the horses sheltered from the worst of the wind. On the pathway up to the top of the hill we were watched as we walked, sunshine making a fire of our red-cat fur.