Telling tales, of walking in wild places, of painting, of sleeping in warm places and of mice and other things....
Monday, December 8, 2008
Clouds like lions rage across the night sky.
Only the brightest of heaven's lamps shines through tonight. The path is silvered by moonlight, and the clouds run like lions across the sky. North wind brings cold. In the lea of the wind there is stillness. In the shadows of the moon the dark is deep as the shadowcat again bides his time, and all the time the moon grows.
When first we started there were four of us, all ginger, and Max. Time has passed. The ginger pride are ghost cats, appart from Elmo. Now the house holds Max, oldest, tabby farm cat, dark, usually found sleeping on a cushion, Elmo, last of the Gingers, beautiful handsome and wonderful who still walks to the high hill top. And now there is Baggage and Bundle, silver mischief in sharp clawed kitten form. The adventures continue.