Burn the brightest

Like a star, fallen from the sky, to walk through the fading flowers of heather in the early autumn air.

Ginger Queen of the Castle..

She was tired, but She would not stay in bed and let us curl around Her and purr while She read. It was a grey day. We could tell that they were going to try and walk without us, so we gathered by the door and made big eyes. Today was a day for mischief and we would not miss out on walking.
First we went to see if the seals were still there. They were, and they made sweet noises, calling, calling, like the wind, like a child, and we hung over the edge of the cliff to see the better.



Next we played "King of the Castle", but Pixie won, so it was "Ginger Queen of the Castle" instead.



Then back up the hill towards home and along the wall, ears on the sharp lookout for mice. The last of the summer martins crisscrossed the golden field.





In the old village of Maes y Mynydd we played ghost cats, threading in and out of the blind window.



Then Elmo decided on a new game of "King of the Castle" to the top of the stone chimney, balanced so precariously, stone upon stone.





Then safe home to sleep and dream of the birds as they zig zag their way through the sky. Very soon now they will be gone, away from the cold to a place far away.

Through the window

We have been watching, through the window. Birds come and go, from feeder to feeder. Bright jewels of birds, fast. And today a woodpecker! Fearsome, sharp beaked, bright eyed, with a red flash of feather and pied plumage.

So Blue

Today we have been watching the birds.




So fast. So blue. They flitter through the dark of the thorn trees like bright jewels.

The moon by cat light

We are cats and we walk in the moonlight.
We walk with our moon shadows in the nighttime country.
On the beaches the seal pups glow in the moonlight. In the sea the sleeping seals shine in the moonlight. The sea is painted with ripples of silver.
The hill is black and white but every tree and every stone wall stands out in its monochrome deep shadowed splendour.
We are the only creature of colour as we hold the last rays of sunset fixed in our fur and shine like a pale fire.

Frankenstein's Cat.

It is not unusual when you lead a busy and active life for bits to fall off a cat. Above is a picture of Steve, the ginger cat who runs the coloured horse farm. A long time ago he put his tail down somewhere and then couldn't remember where.
We know of a cat with one eye, a cat with no ears, a cat with no fur and a cat with no tail and three legs.
When Elmo was little we told him that there was someone who lived near here who would steal parts of a cat, piece by piece, to make a Frankenstein cat. An ear here, an eye there, a tail, some fur and a leg, or two.
Poor Elmo. He wouldn't go to sleep at night unless he was curled up with a dog or a cat or Hannah. And when he woke the first thing he would do was check all his paws and his tail and ears to make sure they were all there.

Nine lives

Luckily on the day that Elmo's head fell off we managed to find it and sew it back on again.

Meanwhile.....

.... in the daytime She stayed in Her studio, signing books and painting. We scratched at the door and pushed our paws under when we thought She should stop and come out and come walking. She is doing a big painting and a small piece of it looks like a woodcat. For this is what people called hares many many years ago.

Evening and the wild wind cat.

Today, all day, the wild wind cat rattled at the cat door, and ran across the roof tiles and pushed at the windows. We stayed warm in the beanbags until we went walking as the sun was setting.




We followed in a line over lichen green rocks to the high place where Maurice found a cave.




Curled like a wildcat he looked out over the fields, safe from the cold chill of the wind cat's breath.




And Elmo ate flowers.

When we are not walking.......

....we are mostly sleeping. On beanbags. Which are oh so comfortably warm for a cat.




And this is Maurice's beanbag, though Elmo has other ideas and thinks that Maurice is his beanbag.




So far the dogs have not learned of the warm comfort of the beanbag, apart from Billy, the ginger lurcher.





Billy, who is very elegant, and has eyes like an Egyptian painting.

When we walk.

We walk in the morning, early, before the birds have sung the light into the day, the sun into the sky. We watch as all comes to light and the darkness of the flying mice is chased from the sky.
We walk in the middle of the day when the sun casts shadows beneath, in the late evening when shadow cats stretch out and yawn and the sun is low.
We walk in the spring freshness of budding blossoms, in the heat of the summer when we pant like tigers, seeking shade, in the cool of autumn when the bracken competes with our coats and in winter.
We walk at night when the sky is a blanket of stars wrapped around the world and shooting stars rain down bringing wishes, when air is full of the small squeals of flying mice who silhouette their wings against the shining moon.
We walk in the rain and our fur makes wet points and we flick with our paws in the puddles and mud.
We walk when the windcat is wild and she pushes our ears flat to our heads and we run to shelter from her roar in the lee of her playful paws.
We walk in the summer evening when the warmth of the air pulls the scent from the flowers and leaves the perfume hanging thick, from honeysuckle and heather.
We walk when the butterflies fill the air, and dragon flies with shining rattle-wings.
We walk in the cold when our warm feet melt footprints into white frost.
But we do not yet walk in snow. We have heard of snow, but we have not yet seen it.
When it comes, then we will walk in snow.

Curiosity

A giant's bedsprings?
A cat activity toy?
Curious!

We Three Walking in the Wild Wind

It has been a week since we have walked. Today the wild wind cat is howling over the hill, a cold north wind. It blows through fur and flattens ears to the head. But we walk anyway. We are not afraid of the wind cat.




On top of the hill we sheltered in a warm and sunny place. Clouds raced overhead. The sun shone and our fur kept us warm. The wind rushed and rattled through the bones of the heather flowers and sighed like the sea in the long golden grass.




Pixie and Bella talked of things, of this and that.




Then home, back out into the wild wind, through bracken and grass, leaving the warmth and shelter of stone.

Who is the fairest of them all ?

The moon-eyed cat stretched and gazed into the mirror.
" I am splendid", he said. " My fur shines like the light or the sun. My whiskers are long and purest white. Magnificent in my own being. I am Cat."
And the mirror-cat looked back and smiled and stretched.

More seals, more walking without us!

They both went off in the car again, with all three dogs but not with us and they were gone for a long time. And when they came back She was excited and spent a long time with the computer and camera. She seemed very pleased with herself. This is what we found. Surfing seals, courting seals and very intimate seals and a seal pup dreaming.






Maybe She should call this a seal blog, not a cat blog. Maybe tomorrow if the sun shines She will walk with us.
Meanwhile She did come home with a car full of things called "Bean bags" which seem to be very comfortable for cats and quite difficult for humans to get out of.

Bedtime story.

Lovely Debs came round to read a bedtime story to Elmo. She found "Can You See a Little Bear". It came with the postman this morning, a board book version, small and pretty, very good to chew, and it has three white mice in it. Debs read so well that Elmo was asleep in minutes, but she carried on looking at all the pretty things in the book.

Pretty mouse.

Bad cat.

Advertising

Usually we do not believe in advertising things. Being cats we are not very commercial, but we know which side our mice are buttered on. So, this month She has had a book published and as it is a book about a cat we thought we might put in a word for her. It is quite a good book, even though the cat is not ginger. It has some words in it, and some pictures too and you can see more of them both at Her website.
The book is about a cat that is big. It lives in the high mountain ranges in Nepal and Afghanistan and has magic in it. And it is about a child too.




It is published in French and in Danish and in English. In November She is going to France to a festival of lots of books to sign books. In America The Snowleopard Conservancy will have some of the books to sell.
She spends a lot of time painting sometimes, though at the moment She is restless and we have to spend much time looking after Her. This morning She woke up too early and started trying to work on a new book just as the sun was beginning to rise, so we made ourselves into a big, thick, ginger blanket with four heads and many legs and four tails so that She could not work. She needs to think some more. We purred a song to help Her relax.
The Elmo sat in a pot and looked charming, like a strange bird on a nest of balls. He is still waiting for his wings.

Sleeping.

Today Larry was sleeping with his new hat on, looking like someone auditioning for The Libertine, very elegant, very decadent, in velvet and brocade.




Meanwhile Floss seemed not to notice that she was using Elmo as a cushion.

Stealing the camera

So, this morning off She goes again with the dogs, and when She gets back, straight into work again. So we take a peek and what do we find? She has been sneaking up close on the seals again.






This is what happens when two seals meet.




So, while She was away we slept in the sunshine and Maurice caught a mouse and Elmo dreamed of flying on ginger wings.

In a cat's eye.