Now it is late. All are curled tight or prowling the kitchen hoping for a snack. Outside the wind cat rages and pushes her paw through the cat flap trying to snatch away the warmth from the house. The sliver of moon that remains in the sky gives no light and the light of the moon is once again taken to the land of the shadowcats. The doors and windows rattle and the rain washes over the roof like a wave. Storms are always worse by night.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Elmo the Bold
In the late evening we walked up the hill, just me and Her, through the farmyard mud to the hill top high where the ponies grazed. The air was still and cold. And while we were away Pixie and Maurice sneaked into Her studio and photographed the other table. Not the one where She works but the one where everything else lives, the pile that grows higher every day, the chaos. She took a moment away from Starlight to paint on some prints, a leopard, curled cat.