We Three, Ginger cats tales

Je Suis Le Chat

2011-12-08T09:42:00.001+01:00

Where's Elmo?

2011-11-29T23:58:00.001+01:00

I have wandered, with Pixie and Max, over to Her Blog, here.

Big Cats

2011-09-27T11:51:00.000+02:00

Some time ago She made a book about Snow Leopards. Snow Leopards are big cats that live wild and free. Watch this film, learn more, and then get your people to vote for The Snow Leopard Trust

And here is Her reading of Her book, The Snow Leopard. If you buy it through The Snow Leopard Trust they get more money to help look after the big cats.

A little help with book signing

2011-09-25T11:06:00.002+02:00

She went to Solva Woollen Mill to sign some books and we sent word to the hard working mill cats. The message was to Heddle and the message was, 'do give the Poor Dear a little helping paw'. At first Heddle just watched, from a box, curled. Eventualy she decided to take things in paw.

A visit from the Silver Witch

2011-09-25T10:45:00.000+02:00

Sometimes people come to stay in our house. This week it was Hannah Willow. She makes beautiful shining things.

Sometimes hares, sometimes bears, always silver and always they hold a magic. And so does she. And, if we may say, she has perfect hair! She is also, it would seem, a slave to many cats and one of The Sisterhood of Ruralists, along with Tamsin Abbott, Catherine Hyde and Her. And what do they all have in common, apart from their habit of scribbling, in glass, on paper, with paint and with silver? They all are owned by feline creatures!

A measure of life in cats

2011-08-28T17:38:00.000+02:00

Comfrey was the first, just days old when his mother was killed by a tractor, raised on a bottle, he grew to be big. He liked to go for walks.
When Comfrey died, Arthur and Martha, brought home in a cardboard box, small ginger bundles. Arthur went to live with my neighbour but would always come back to visit.
Max next. When he was young Hannah carried him everywhere in a basket. Now he spends his days in the wood pile and always greets when we get home.
Bird found us. Small black cat, he always loved Bella.
Then Pixie and Maurice. And I can say nothing about Maurice without raising tears. I loved him so.
And Kiffer, who had already used some of his nine lives before he came to live with us and then borrowed some from Maurice.
And Elmo.

Soon...........

2011-08-27T22:04:00.000+02:00

....it will be finished. She has only some writing to do and a small piece of colouring in and a deciding on what the puma should be called. She thinks it should be a cougar.

Progress; or "Needs Whiskers".

2011-08-15T09:21:00.000+02:00

Only those who know Her well will understand how hard it is for Her to paint this cover. It is turning into a small hymn of praise for Maurice.

At last!

2011-08-14T11:01:00.000+02:00

Well, it has taken Her years but it looks like She is finally beginning to get the idea of how to paint cats. We have been so patient with Her. We thought there would be trouble when She said She was working on a cat book. We have been helping, sitting still in warm places, watching, walking in paint. These two are for front and back endpapers, and have cat paw prints to go with them thanks to Pixie.

I love my cat

2011-07-29T13:15:00.000+02:00

Calendar

2011-06-18T11:45:00.000+02:00

She is doing a calendar.You can find out more about it on Her blog. We think it looks ok, but there are not enough cats in it.
Soon she will be making things with cats for cafe press, but until then She distracts Herself from our cat book, I am Cat, with all this calendar nonsense.
And She says that the calendar is a limited edition one, and selling fast, which surprises us given the lack of cats, but it takes all kinds we suppose.
There are special dates on the calendar like International Peace Day which is when all humans stop fighting each other for a whole day before taking up arms again ( oh the irony, what a foolish species) and also t he phases of the new and full moon.

On Her blog......

2011-06-03T14:26:00.000+02:00

.......is a picture, a competition and a prize.
And part of the prize is a signed copy of Her new book, doodled and scrawled in.

A short walk and a new shop

2011-05-30T13:17:00.001+02:00

The morning was cloudy and light rain was falling as She set off up the hill with the dogs and I ran after them. Rain will not stop me walking. The lane to the hill top was wet so I sent the dogs on ahead and walked through the tunnel of long grass and campion. The light was emerald.

At the top of the hill the dogs were soaked, She was soaked and I? Well, I was dry as a thirst cat and warm as sunshine. "How?" she asked. " How can you walk through so much water and still be dry at the top?"

"Easy." I replied. " I am Cat."

And She has been busy, working on 'I am Cat', the book ( wonder where She got that title from!) and opening a gift shop at The House of Golden Dreams ( a place where we often go to curl and dream in our ammonite beauty). The shop has bags and mouse mats ( which every good cat needs when crunching on fragile bones) and covers for iThings. She will add more. And She says we can open out own shop too some time soon but that we are not to spend all our money on gambling and playing cat poker.

You can visit the Gift Shop for The House of Golden Dreams, anytime. It is always open.

Elmo and the herb garden

2011-05-15T11:18:00.000+02:00

Elmo visits the ghost cats

2011-05-13T23:37:00.000+02:00

Walking the big cat

2011-05-12T00:06:00.000+02:00

To say that we are slightly worried by Her latest painting would be an understatement.

Intimate moments with Pixie and Bella

2011-05-04T10:44:00.000+02:00

Kisses are in season when gorse is in bloom

2011-04-19T13:34:00.000+02:00

Last night the moon rose red into the sky. Deep red fading to copper gold as she lifted. And when she was deep red the shadow thief stole all the moonshadows.
This morning we walked into the bright day.
On the high hill top the dogs ran wild after a red fox. He was wild and fleet fox footed and She watched as he twisted around and tricked the dogs, then up over the hill, fast on narrow paths through low thorn trees. Rosie picked up his scent and away they went again.

On top of the hill the air was still. A raven watched, a buzzard too. We rested a while in the gorse scented air and then back down again, through the rich green of the fields to the songs of skylarks.

A short message from Hannah

2011-04-12T19:27:00.001+02:00

She was a little shocked earlier this year when Hannah announced that she wanted to go to Peru for four weeks this summer with a company called World Challenge.We, however, thought it was a brilliant idea as the girl child will be away for four weeks, giving Her more time to concentrate on us!
Hannah researched the trip and has been applying here and there for funding, has been saving all her money from her part time job, is plundering her savings. We have provided her with the odd mouse, but she just seemed disinterested. She says that 'mice are not money!' Ungrateful child.
This weekend they went to Derbeyshire where Hannah had a chance to meet some of the team she will be going with. Leaving us on our own with Tom ( who is not very fond of cats!)
Amazing.

As part of her fund raising she is doing a beach clean. It seemed a good way to benefit all round, and also something different. We have seen, from the cliff tops, some of the rubbish that washes ashore. The tideline is always dotted with tiny pearls of coloured plastic.
To help, as she did not want our mice, we said she could put something on our blog, so, over to Hannah:

Hey Bloggers!

As you may know, my mother is one Jackie Morris and I am an AS student at Ysgol Dewi Sant, studying Art, English, History and religious Studies. This summer I am embarking on a World Challenge Expedition to Peru- Andes and Amazon.

This expedition will not only be culturally enriching but will also develop skills in team work, co-operation and money management, and will be an invaluable educational experience as it will not only provide 70 UCAS points as it is ASDAN recognised, but will be the primary stimulus and inspiration for my A level art project.

This project will entail trekking through the Andes and Amazon but more importantly beneficial community work in the community of Lima.

As I fundraising activity, I am going to be doing a beach clean on the less accessible coastal beaches that you will have seen on mum’s blog, as every year much debris is washed up on them and never really gets cleared away. As most of them can only be accessed by boat. This will not only benefit the wildlife and local community, but I will also be donating half of the funds raised to Save The Children, who carry out projects globally, and of particular interest to me in Peru. Any support would be gratefully received.

Thanks

Hannah

In order to gain access to the beaches, which are inaccessible from the land Voyages of Discovery are loaning Hannah a skipper and a boat. Ffion, the skipper, is loaning her a dry suit and she will have to jump overboard and swim ashore then bag up as much rubbish as she can and swim it back to the boat. With luck she will be able to clear much of the plastic, and most importantly the bits of netting and wires that tangle the seal pups that will be born on the beaches later in the year.

If you would like to sponsor Hannah please send cheques, made out to Hannah Stowe, to c/o Chris and Julie at The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, Paris House, St Davids, SA62 6SN.

Thanks.

The Ghost Cat

2011-04-11T23:41:00.000+02:00

Tonight, by the light of the quarter moon we walk. The wind is rising. Pixie and Max are sheltering, warm in the kitchen. Only Elmo follows. The moon is almost bright enough to pick out his flame coat and he looks well, sleek. He watches over Her as they walk, and talks to himself, to Her, singing a cat song to the moonshadow cat who keeps pace beside him. Starlight.

Starbright.

The ground is shattered and splintered beneath the trees, shadow and moonlight, silver and dark.

I call, on the edge of the wind, on the edge of memory, a feint cat cry in the wind. And I walk with them too, ghost cat, watchful, shadow and moonlight.

Elmo and the Puddle Cat

2011-04-11T15:15:00.000+02:00

Elmo's Adventures Part 2, The Shadow Cat

2011-04-08T09:55:00.000+02:00

The adventures of Elmo, Part 1, How to climb trees.

2011-04-07T23:33:00.000+02:00

Cat watching cat.

2011-03-26T12:10:00.001+01:00

Bijou in USA watching Elmo's technique on tree climbing in Wales.

a short and raw film of an evening walk

2011-03-25T21:46:00.000+01:00

21st Century Tiger Auction no 2.

2011-03-21T16:11:00.000+01:00

The auction of Her work has gone live on eBay. The painting is of big ginger cats, tigers and all the money raised from the sale will go to 21st Century Tiger, so we ask, please blog, tweet, facebook about the auction. We want as many people as possible to join the 21st Century Tiger Facebook Page, to follow heir work, donate money if possible.

The reserve price is £500, and the painting is the original from Lord of the Forest, written by Caroline Pitcher and illustrated by me, published by Frances Lincoln. The page that reads:

"Tiger played and fought with his brothers. He swam in the cool water.

He told his mother, "I can hear the creep of crabs in the pool and the flip of the fish as they leap in the cool, the croak and the splash of jumping frogs and the slither of watersnake down from the logs."

His mother said, " When you don't hear them, when silence burns and time stands still, then, my son, be ready. The Lord of the Forest is here!"

Cat Power

2011-03-18T11:44:00.002+01:00

She has signed and wrapped a hardback first edition of Lord of the Forest to go with the painting auction at 21st Century Tiger, so please sign up to the Facebook page to keep an eye on the work of the organisation, the tigers and the auction. Cat power!

Meanwhile She and I have been testing the youtube channel!

What She is doing, by Her.

2011-03-17T11:46:00.000+01:00

Last year I went to London Zoo and fed tigers. To be in the presence of tigers is to be granted an incredible gift. I have a friend who travels a great deal, Wendy Cooling. I still remember listening to her as she spoke of a safari into the forests in India on elephant back. She was lucky enough to have been given the gift of watching a tiger in the wild. She told me that she cried, the creature was so beautiful. So very very beautiful. Even as she was telling me her eyes filled.

I wanted to do something for these animals that have walked through my dreams and when I was at the zoo I was told about 21st Century Tiger. All I could do was to give them a painting which they could use as they wished, to raise money and to raise awareness for their work. Below is the press release. The auction goes live next week.

Sign up to their facebook page to keep an eye on the auction and please spread the word. The painting comes with a hardback copy of the book signed by Caroline Pitcher and myself. This is a first edition hardback, rare in itself as the book is only in print in paperback now.
I think the reserve price is £500, and given that many of my illustrations are now £4000 this could be a chance to pick up a bargain.

Famous watercolour auctioned for tiger conservation

Acclaimed artist Jackie Morris is donating a watercolour to be auctioned on eBay in aid of 21^st Century Tiger.

The original watercolour from the book Lord of the Forest written by Caroline Pitcher will be auctioned on eBay from 21 March 2011.

One hundred years ago there were 100,000 wild tigers. Now there are less than 3200 tigers left in the wild.

In the last century Asia’s wild tiger range has shrunk to a mere 7 per cent of its original habitat, shockingly 40 per cent of that decline has happened in the past ten years.

Jackie Morris “Even though in my lifetime I may never ever see a tiger in the wild my world is a richer place for knowing that these wonderful creatures are there. 21^st Century Tiger is a rare organisation working to protect the habitat of the tigers in harmony with the people who live alongside them, and also rare in that 100% of all money given to them goes towards their projects rather than being eaten up by admin costs. It is my hope that when I have grandchildren tigers will still walk through their dreams and through the forests of the world as living creatures and not something from history, creatures of myth”.

21^st Century Tiger is a unique fundraising partnership between the Zoological Society of London (ZSL) and Global Tiger Patrol that gives 100 per cent of all they raise to carefully chosen conservation projects throughout Asia.

21^st Century Tiger currently funds the work of both international and local conservation organisations with a range of projects from education in China, ranger training in Thailand and anti-poaching, to monitoring of the tiger populations in Sumatra and Russia.

These important projects address the pressures the tiger faces in today’s world of trade, exploding human population and vanishing forests.

The auction will be held on eBay over ten days, ending on 30^th March 2011. More information can be found at www.21stCenturyTiger.org.

ps. thanks cats, for letting me post this. How I love my small tigers.

Films and bags and libraries

2011-03-15T16:17:00.000+01:00

Max has decided that he needs to lend his support to the campaign to save libraries, because the bags are very comfortable to sleep in.

Meanwhile, She keeps distracting Herself from getting on with I am Cat. Now She has a Youtube channel. But She does promise some time to put on films of us cats, sleeping, walking, sleeping, thinking, sleeping.........

Walking down memory lane, Maurice and Elmo

2011-03-12T12:34:00.002+01:00

It's A Book - By Lane Smith

2011-03-09T17:23:00.000+01:00

A short but growing list.

2011-03-09T09:22:00.000+01:00

Things Maurice taught us.

The elegance of the feline creature.
That it is possible to love unconditionally.

Always always always be sick in the cat basket on the way to the vet. If you can poo as well, all the better.
Between the eyes and a book is the best place to get attention.
Training humans to catch mice usually results in great excitement and shouting.
How to look upon furless humans with utter disdain.
Always make sure they know you are there before you jump into their arms.
Never eat the green wobbly bit.
Nothing on earth is as beautiful as a cat.
That the kitchen table is not the best place to do a wee.

From 'I am Cat': Pixie sleeping, dreaming cat dreams.

2011-03-08T21:40:00.000+01:00

Understanding words, understanding cats, understanding hearts.

2011-03-08T11:05:00.000+01:00

Maurice was bright flame cat, wicked eyed cat, warm cat, intimate cat, companion.
His face asked questions, always.
He walked, watching, ears alert, guardian cat, wild on the hills.
Fire cat, he was beautiful, in golden grass, in heather, honeysuckle, bluebells, clover, on clifftops, hilltops, meadows, hedge and wall.
He was hunter, brother, beloved.
Most of all beloved.

Maurice

2011-03-07T10:04:00.001+01:00

Outside the sun is shining. The snowdrops are fading and primroses hold a promise of summer sun in their pale yellow flowers. The days get longer. The birdsong is louder and all around the rooks and the jackdaws begin to gather sticks and moss to make unruly nests.

There are lambs in the field by the house, bright and full of their own springs and playful running.

But my heart is raw and open for today the best of all cats had died. Words fail me.

Yesterday he jumped up into my arms where I held him warm and close.

Today I have buried him in the soft, dark earth.

There was something so very special about Maurice and only those who have had the great privilege to be so close with an animal will know that. Never broken, beyond the frail thing called love, perhaps just a mutual respect.

His death leaves me breathless.

New Toy, Black Cat

2011-02-24T10:29:00.001+01:00

Well, off She went to a land far away and left us all here, alone with only the dogs to look after and a couple of house elves. Then home She comes all smiles, with Her new toy and it seems that She has been talking with English cats.
Daisy works at a bookshop in Norfolk and had invited Her to come and visit the north Norfolk Children's Book Group. And while She was there She also went to Attleborough to play and draw and while a dragon watched through the library window, to hear children talk about all the books they had chosen for the Norfolk Children's Book Award.
All dragons were delighted to discover that from the 6000 children who had taken part in the award this year they had chosen Tell Me a Dragon as their favorite.

There are more photos of the dragon wagon on Her blog.

Beautiful things

2011-02-22T21:04:00.000+01:00

Looking exceptionaly beautiful today Maurice is modelling a blanket from Melin Tregwynt in Wales. It goes so very beautifully with his eyes.

Today is a day for sleeping and dreaming.

2011-02-11T13:17:00.000+01:00

And Pixie is learning from Max, how to be an egg.

Dragon hunting on a blue sky day.

2011-02-10T13:49:00.000+01:00

As Pixie snuffles and Maurice struggles to breath I have to walk alone. But still there are three. And as I walk there are three. Me, my shadow and the puddle cat. So, over the hill and far away for She is hunting dragons again.

On the high hill top we stop, we rest and She takes out Her small black book. Scratch scratch and the paper and a cold wind blows so I sneak inside her fur for warmth.

Back home, Max was disguised as an egg. Lazy cat.

A cat may look at a queen.

2011-02-01T15:54:00.000+01:00

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?

I've been up to London to visit the queen.

Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?

I frightened a little mouse under her chair!

Hey Diddle Diddle The Cat and The Fiddle

2011-01-20T20:36:00.001+01:00

We three cats have been quiet cats for a long time now. She has been busy and we have been curled and hushed. Pixie is not well, with a green sticky sneezing. Maurice struggles to take a breath. So now only I walk. But mostly I sit and guard the house for Mr Griffiths. He is away in a warmer place but news is that he will soon be home. And Nadolig has made himself very comfortable by the fire at the neighbour's house.

As for Max, he has been strutting and posing and sleeping and helping. And I, well, I have been sitting in the bird tree among the bird feeders, waiting. Because I am Elmo and I am bad.

Squash and squeeze

2010-12-26T09:18:00.000+01:00

For some reason the two legs played strange games of squash and squeeze yesterday.First they played "How many birds can Daf fit into a goose?" The answer? A snipe, a woodcock ( She was a bit upset by that until She ate a bit!) a teal, a partiridge and a pheasant.
Next they played "How many dogs can ypou fit into a small cottage and the answer to that was six.

Daf had a long conversation with Max about catching birds and stuffing them into things while Cadog ( the new puppy) cuddled on his lap.

Later we found peace and quiet on the kitchen table, just me and Elmo and Maurice.

Then She went off to sleep in Her studio, dreams guarded by not one but two Bagpusses, like sphinxes, either side of the pillows.

The Little Dog Laughed to See Such Fun

2010-12-23T17:29:00.000+01:00

Brothers

2010-12-21T09:01:00.000+01:00

Maurice, helping

2010-12-20T08:57:00.000+01:00

In the morning Elmo walked wih Her. In the evening it was my turn to help with the work. So I slept and dreamed and curled while She scribbled in a book. She calls that work.
In Her studio there is a new working place, though it does look very like a bed. Cleverly designed, She says, for it has a place for a wine glass to balance on a corner.

At the turning of the day

2010-12-19T12:38:00.001+01:00

Before the coming of the light we walked, up the green lane to the top of the hill then over the hill and far away.

In places pockets of hoar frost still hung on the winter leaves. The great muckle cow had frozen tears of ice. The world was hushed. Only the sound of birds' wings and a waiting.

We walked to the ruins of the village where old cold stones stood and the ghosts of cats long gone prowled. Now the only bright flame in the chimney fawr was the ginger fur of me. Once cats curled and people sat, talking and whittling at Welsh love spoons, gifts for Christmas at a time when the feast would be sparce, for all but the cats whose work it was to keep rats from the winter food stores.

On top of the hill the wild ponies were curious.

Home again. It had been a walk of winter birds. Snipe and woodcock that flew from thefeet almost at the moment you stepped on them. Ravens corkscrewing the air on ragged black wings. Only the memory of larksong. Wren and linnet, lapwing and curlew, mounrful.

Back home, fire lit, time now to curl and dream and run with the ghost cats by their cold ghost fires in the winter stone walls of Maes y Mynydd.

Remembering Kiffer

2010-12-16T14:23:00.000+01:00

There are times when the cats move aside and let me blog. This is one such time. They are all lazy and draped over furniture, warm by the fire while outside rain hammers down.

Today I was sent a photograph of a book. It was only when I looked properly at the photo I saw that the book in the photo, 'Talk to the Tail', is dedicated to Jeanne Francis, and Kiffer.

Beautiful Kiffer. He wasn't here with us for long. He loved Tom Cox and would happily have set off on adventures to Norfolk with Tom. I wish I had let him go.

The cats and I are very proud and pleased that he has a book dedicated to him, especialy as, if it is anywhere near as good as the last one, Under the Paw, it will be a very fine book indeed.

Sad, but lovely looking through photos of Kiff. He was a good cat.

Helping paws

2010-12-02T22:59:00.000+01:00

Down at the mill, and even though the raffle is over signed books are still selling well, both at the mill itself and online, so we sent Her off to sign some more and also sent instructions to the mill cats, to help Her out.

Tired after all the hard work, Heddle rested a while and checked that the books fit in the box.

Cats sell books!

2010-11-28T13:21:00.000+01:00

Down at the mill the book launch went well. The cats were very good at persauding people to buy books and kept an eye on the raffle to make sure all was done well.

The raffle was won by Linda McCarroll from Solva. And She says thank you to everyone who bought a book and wants us to remind people that they can still but books form the mill, online, signed. Next year we will have a raffle again because people seemed to like it.

This Morning, walking in sunshine.

2010-11-28T13:17:00.000+01:00

Early morning and we walk out at the twisting turn of light. Earth iron, water stone, so cold.

In the half light we hunt through the leaves made bright by a soft dust of snow.

And then the sun come up and the world shines with light.

As we head for home it would seem that Elmo carries some of the sunshine with him.

Fireside chat

2010-11-23T08:45:00.000+01:00

Max: Warm. Good. She should be sitting here.

Maurice: She's busy. I think She has been surprised by the amount of books She has shifted from the Woollen Mill. And She's colouring in, a sheep or something. Not enough cat pictures.

Max: There are cats at the Mill, I am told. Working cats. In the day they lounge around in boxes, but at night they prowl and stalk around the weaving looms snicking and snacking on foolish mice.
Warp, Weft and Bobbin. They are working cats. But all day they sleep, although sometimes Bobbin sits on high beams and supervises the building work.
There is a new room being renovated to make more shop and tea room space and She is hoping there will be wall space for paintings.

Maurice: So, it's in a few days time, and there's still time for cats to get their owners to buy a book, though why they would want to win a drawing of a bear I can't imagine, and they can find links to the Mill below or here . And do you think after that She will have time to sit with us?

Max: Probably not, because She is a foolish creature too busy for Her own good.

Maurice: Can you see tigers playing in the flickering flames.

Eavesdropping. Elmo tells Max a secret or two.

2010-11-07T16:26:00.000+01:00

Ssshh..... come close. I will tell you some secrets in whispered cat words.

She has been painting cheetahs and cherries again when She should have been working on something else.

And, sshhhh... She is having a book launch for The Ice Bear, in Solva Woollen Mill in Middlemill, Pembrokeshire on 27th November, from 5 pm. There are cats in the mill. During the evening every book that is sold will come with a raffle ticket and at the end of the evening a winning ticket will be pulled from a hat and the winner will take home the drawing below. Sadly it is only a drawing of a bear, not of a cat, but it is quite a nice drawing despite that, in pencil, on board. And to make things fair to our friends who live a long long way away any book bought from the mill's online store will also come with a raffle ticket and the buyers details will also be put into the draw on the evening of 27th. One book, one ticket. All the books at the mill are signed and the offer applies to all the titles, not just The Ice Bear.

And, this is not a secret so we can shout it loud and proud, Tell Me a Dragon has been nominated for the CILIP Kate Greenaway Medal, and we are proud because we helped her to paint the dragons with their cat's eyes and cat's claws and elegant feline grace.

Some help with the cooking.

2010-10-27T17:55:00.000+02:00

Maurice: No, look. It does say ' mouse cake'.

Not forgotten.

2010-10-25T23:46:00.000+02:00

She went away and returned with a mirror, so now we can see our reflected glory. Beautiful ginger, we glow like firecats.
This morning the ground was crisp white with a shawl that the moon had thrown down and spread across the fields. As the sun rose into the morning sky she stole away its bone white beauty and warmed the land but when evening came the cold bit again at the air.
Inside the house is warm. We melt in ginger pools across soft cushions.
The house seems a little lost still without Martha. The people sometimes stop when walking across a room and look around as if they have lost something, until they find it is only the memory of her fragile beauty that has slipped their minds for a moment.

Outside is windsong, cold and dark. Inside embers glow.

Looking back.

2010-10-01T21:09:00.000+02:00

Eighteen years ago She had a big white cat, the legendary Comfrey, who walked and walked the hills with Her.

When he died, in mysterious circumstances, Arthur and Martha came to live here.

They were all so young, and some of us weren't even born!

All was peaceful in the House of Ginger

2010-09-29T19:47:00.000+02:00

Rosie and Maurice curled on the dog bed, dreaming, while Pixie was pinned to the path by the weight of late summer sunshine.

Rock, water, stone, feather.

2010-09-29T13:50:00.001+02:00

Although we know She should be working we thought itwas time that She should be walking, so we clawed Her out from Her studio, away from the cheetah She was painting and up the hill to a land of blue sky. All the way up the green lane the garss was wet, but not with tears for Martha, who loved to walk this way. The land will miss her soft pawed carress, but it does not weep for her.

Full of life we were and free on this beautiful warm sunshine day, and each step that we took, each paw that we raised and planted on the dark earth we did so in celebration of Martha's life. The air was all golden birds and dark chough. At the Standing Stone, all softened with lichens, we played King of the Castle, Rosie and me.

I won.

We were on top of the world. The sun was warm, the salt air full of birdsong. We were alive and we were here to celebrate.

Floss and Rosie found a high place. In the sky the moon hung silent. I climbed to their high place to be closer to the beautiful moon.

On the way back down a raven circled where we had been walking, tumbling and turning in the joy of having wings. On the hill we all found a quiet sense of peace, the bright moon, the dark raven, the golden birds and memories.

Life's End.

2010-09-27T14:38:00.000+02:00

At times like this the cats move over to let me speak.
Martha has been ill for some time. Well, not really ill, but old. Today she was put to sleep, in my arms, in the garden full of sunshine and birdsong.
I buried her with her brother, Arthur.
Martha lived with us for fifteen years. The gentlest of cats. Hannah was just a year old when I picked Arthur and Martha up from Catherine Street in St Davids in a cardboard box and both she and Tom loved these little ginger fluff bundles. She was always the smallest, and in many ways the kindest of the cats that have lived with us. Not a killer. Almost every night of Hannah's growing Martha would purr her to sleep before heading out to look at the stars, and be back on the bed when Hannah woke in the mornings.
No more. Such a beautiful day. It was hard to tell when she had died the sun was so warm on her fur.
So, if I could have one wish for Martha it would be this: not that she will wait for me at a rainbow bridge in some future. I had fifteen years with her and that was a good measure of time. I hope and I wish that when she has rested for a while she can be reborn as a falcon, wild, fierce. That she can grow wings and sharp eyes and curved claw and scream across the skies, that all this is hers.
Or maybe that is what I would wish for myself and Martha may have other ideas, for cats are independent creatures and that is why I love them so.
I have the memory of her young ginger beauty. That is enough.

Last days of summer and the first few pages.

2010-09-18T19:35:00.000+02:00

Things have been quiet for a time in the House of Ginger. We have been staying close to the house, watching the rosehips ripen to red, watching the swallows gather and by night stalking in moonlight beneath the bats, or sitting by the house where moths dance in the windowlight and bats come too.
There have been a few evenings of fires, just small ones. Woodsmoke and warmth.
And at last She has started work on I Am Cat. Just a few tentative drawings to begin, and She has too much to do in time for work to go to a book fair.

By day we catch the last of the warmth of summer, lying curled in the garden in patches where the sun still throws down her shawl for us to sleep on. In the evening, as the dark comes in, we gather on the sofa and wait for the strike of the match. And all the time we watch.

Autumn, exhibitions and a reading of bears.

2010-09-11T08:19:00.000+02:00

Gingercat, where a cat should be, on a lap! By Amanda Popham.

For the past week or so She has been so busy, and always on the computer, on something called Facebook, Her website, another blog, that we have not been able to get out gingery paws onto the key board. And to add insult to injury She went away and left us to make an exhibition of Herself in England! She is a bad Cat's Mother.

And what have we been doing? We have been watching birds gather to fly to warm places, sitting beneath the rose bush that hangs with shining hips, following the leaves that begin to tumble from trees, for if you catch a falling leaf then you can have a wish. We have been stalking the stars in thegarden by night and seeing the moths dance in delight, hunted by bats. And we have been listening to Her reading a story about a boy and a bear.

Soon it will be time for the lighting of the first fires of winter. There is wood in the woodshed, great piles of dry logs where we sometimes sit to watch as mice run through the tunnels between logs. But for now there are still warm days with autumn sunshine and our fur which glows like flames.

Working hard.

2010-08-30T21:03:00.000+02:00

When we are not working hard promoting Her work and taking a look at the work of Amanda Popham, which is lovely......

...we like to practice synchronized lounging in sunshine.

Hard work, and Max came to add some dark contrast to ginger splendour. In the meantime Martha became The Cookbook Cat in a cwtch.

Making an exhibition of Herself

2010-08-23T08:49:00.000+02:00

It has been a while since we posted. Not because we have been busy. We have just been being cats, which is the best ting to be. And not much has happened. We have watched birds fly, visited Glyn, walked in the starlit world and marked the paths of bats across the night.

She has been busy, painting and getting things together for an exhibition a long way away from home in England.

We are glad to see that She is painting cats, although She seems to be spending too little time in Her studio, too little time with us.

It is summer. The garden should be butterflies dancing but today is rain. It taps its claws on the roof and trickles in bright trails down the windows. So we curl on the sofa and dream cat dreams and wait. There are seal pups on the beaches.

Life is sweet.

On 24th September it will be Glyn's birthday. We think he will be 85, but we are not sure. Each year he gets a few cards for his birthday. Each year these get less. If you would like to send him a car please do, to C/o Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New St, St Davids, Pembrokeshire, Wales, UK. SA62 6SN. All of the cards sent to him in hospital and at home have warmed his heart and astonished him that there are people around the world who know him and care. There is an invisibility that comes with age, but Glyn feels good that people around the world know of him, of Nadolig. And if you mark the envelopes 'birthday' then She will keep them and take them all to him on the day. You never know, we might even persaud Her to make him a cake.

Oh, and She has a new book out on 2nd September, but it isn't about cats.

Green lanes and yellow pillows.

2010-07-31T22:55:00.001+02:00

Late morning and finaly She starts to walk, up the green lane that now tunnels the emerald summer light, narrowed by grass and fern and bramble, all full of summer growth.

At the top of the hill pillows of tormentil soften the grass where the little people of the air criss cross on butterfly wings and glass wings and feather wings, or jump and sing their grasshopper songs in golden grass flowers. A short walk. We rest amid the songs of insects and watch cloud shadows dance across the land.

Then home again as She has work to do, but at home we find rest in the garden where the herbs grow.

The moon has come to rest in our garden of herbs.

Meanwhile, in the studio, and She is wandering off into a world of painting when She should be thinking of nursery rhymes. Soon She will begin work on the cat book. For now, cheetahs and cherries.

A Cloud Bitten Day of Bright Colours

2010-07-31T11:14:00.002+02:00

On the way up the hill the dogs played in the long green gold swaying grass. It seemed that the sky had come to earth and bitten pieces from it.

We walked together and close, tails twined.

The gray sky made the fields grow emerald bright, made ginger fur shine like fire. In the green lane home the grass and bracken bent almost to tunnel the path. The lane held the air from another day, a warmer day, scented with summer smells. Beautiful.

A pool of beauty

2010-07-27T23:00:00.000+02:00

In the early evening twilight time of day Elmo discovered that a small patch of sky had tumbled to earth, bringing with it clouds lit by falling sunshine.

Somewhere, the moon.

2010-07-23T23:41:00.000+02:00

Walking the twilight village and the sky is like the under belly of a fish. As I rest in Her arms She is reminded that a year has passed and I am still here. As She feels the weight of me, the warmth of me, the great purring life in me, She is glad. A whole year of time, and in that year She has spent too much time painting and not enough time walking with me. Now the weight of my tail resting wrapped around Her cold arm shows Her that I forgive Her the time She has wasted in not being with a cat.
Bats fly. The growing darkness is lit by flickers of moth flit.
I purr. She walks. Somewhere the moon watches.

Thoughtful

2010-07-12T09:15:00.000+02:00

On top of the wood pile is the new place of choice for a cat to sit and think, about life, love and the persuit of happiness.

Twilight and life.

2010-07-07T23:30:00.002+02:00

She walked too early this evening, around the village. She wanted to see bats. She wanted to draw. Three dogs, four ginger cats and Her, a curious ritual procession to call the dark in on another day. In the hedges the campion flowers glowed brightest pink. Across the fields swallows skimmed the sea of grass. At Glyn's house he was standing on the doorstep looking tired and frail, but still there with a pat for a cat and a treat for a dog. She stayed and talked and he wanted to know if She thought there was a heaven up there.

As they talked the sky began to glow a rich pink, a flood of colour across the land, a splendid dance of setting sun, a radiant roof for the world. Bats began to flit flitter across the yard. Moth flutter, bat flit and the reeling rasp of grasshopper warblers as twilight fell.

Beautiful fading light and life.

If any could spare the time we think perhaps Glyn would like some letters. They have brought such joy to his life, knowing that he has friends so far away. Just someone out there who is thinking of him.

Cards can be posted to: C/O Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, St Davids, SA62 6SN, Wales, UK.
We will make sure that She takes them to him.

A heartfelt thanks from Glyn and the patient cat.

2010-07-04T22:46:00.000+02:00

We at the House of Ginger have been asked by Mr Griffith, our good friend, to say a very big and warm thank you to everyone who took the time and trouble to send cards and letters and pictures and good wishes to him while he was away from home. He is back now, home with Nadolig who is very pleased to see him. He is well, enjoying the sunshine, the familiar and loved surroundings, the garden and the birdsong, and the company of cats again.
And he just wanted to say thanks.
He still has all the cards, in a very heavy bag and will sit and look through, sharing with Nadolig, and marvelling at the simple kindness of strangers who took time to send a line, a wish, a greeting until their thoughts wrapped around the world in a wish that these two friends would be reunited.
And they are.

She has been painting.........

2010-06-15T22:47:00.000+02:00

......cats!

To see more have a look at Her blog.

Somewhere a cat is always watching

2010-06-14T09:51:00.000+02:00

Once upon a time there was a catch who hatched the egg of a dragon.

2010-06-13T20:02:00.000+02:00

We have made too many people cry this week, and now She is looking through photos on the computer. It seems that there was once a crooked man, who walked a crooked mile and found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile. He bought a crooked cat, who caught a crooked mouse and they all lived together in a little crooked house. And She is doing a book of nursery rhymes. And Kiffer was the perfect crooked cat. If anyone could catch a crooked mouse he could.

Sunday.

2010-06-13T09:23:00.000+02:00

Early morning sunshine paints the sycamore seeds a glowing red. Bird song raises the sun. Wind plays with the leaves and grass and flowers through which butterflies dance a chaotic canter. The honeysuckle tree is rich with a thousand flowers, almost open. The ash tree is heavy with a weight of leaves. Foxgloves line the stone walls, made centuries ago by working hands while cats looked on, dreaming of the plump and succulent mice that would make their homes in a labyrinth of tunnels that weave through them now.

It is peaceful quite in the rose swaying, breeze blowing, summer sunshine land of garden.

Early twilight

2010-06-12T22:27:00.000+02:00

Now is the dusk time cooling of the day and in the garden daisies have closed their eyes against the fading light. Moths are flitting through narrow pathways between leaves and flowers where in the daytime the butterflies moved. Overhead aerymice sing high songs across the sky where earlier the swallows flew. We watch and wait for the fading of the moon and the coming of the stars. Tonight they will be brilliant, a diamond canopy of light thrown up into the velvet dark. No moon. Soon the stars will be falling again.
The air is thick with the scent of honeysuckle and roses and the fading song of birds.

Sunshine in the garden on a lazy afternoon.

2010-06-12T18:26:00.000+02:00

A field of long grass

2010-06-09T08:50:00.000+02:00

Thanks

2010-06-09T08:24:00.001+02:00

We cats would all like to say the biggest thank you for all warm wishes sent from round the world to us, to Her, on the sad day. Now we are five again. We are sure to find Kiffer on times in the night when the moon is full and we gather at the well to sing songs to the moon.

We thought it best to let people know how we all are fairing.

Martha is old. 15 this year and skinny But good, for now.

I, Pixie, still have the sneezes, something like a poor imune system. We shall see.

Maurice seems well, though short of breath at times and She forgets to give him his tablets. He was chief carer for Her yesterday and odd times would jump into Her arms and put paws round Her neck to comfort.

Elmo is mischief and balance and fun and run and chase up a tree and bounce.

Max is quiet dark dignity lurking.

And Nadolig, the next door cat is now getting six dinners a day and looking good, if a bit ragged around the ears from fighting and dancing and living a high life of a wandering lothario.

We do not grieve for Kiffer because we know where he has gone, though his passing was too soon.

Oh, And She, well, She has a headache and feels sick but says it is only the menopaws and shruggs and scowls. Nothing to worry about.

And She wonders, how many cats have lived and died in this house, how many in this village? Mr Griffiths alone has had about 7. Here in Her lifetime are Comfrey and Arthur and Bird and Kiffer. How many mousers and fireside companions who curled round the necks of women and small children, who snoozed in warm sunshine and chased after rats, how many have lived here. She wonders. We know.

A very sad day

2010-06-08T08:48:00.002+02:00

I sing in praise of Kiffer the Bold whose life was short but full.

Who would walk in the wild without fear.

Who could lay out a line of rats and almost label them so that all would know that these were the rats that Kiffer had taken.

Who was big and warm and welcoming.

Who would sit on a lap with a weight like a dog.

Who would wrap paws around your leg when he was hungry and politely bite to demand that you hurry for a cat has business to be about.

Who would sometimes decide that your dinner was his dinner and try and climb on your plate.

Whose eyes were like amber jewels so bright.
Whose whiskers were long and straight.

Whose fur was a blush of strawberry roan.

Who could smile with the secret smile of a cat.

Who could raise a smile from the saddest of people.

Who lay beside the puppy when she was sleeping and whispered stories of giant cats into her dreaming ears to teach her manners.

Who walked with his head on one side almost as if the world looked better that way.

Whose miaow had the curious croak of the corncrake's cry, as if he had stolen the voice of a bird.

Who was loved.

Kiffer moved on from this life this morning after a brief illness. Yesterday evening he came for food with all the other cats then curled on a cushion underneath the table, quiet. He did not seem to suffer any pain and right to the last his glorious cat eyes were bright and shining. In his last moments he stretched a small stretch and breathed his last breath and moved peacefully on to whatever adventures await a cat.

And I am sad.

An old picture of the Kiffercat in his beautiful prime

Elmo balances in trees, rock and gateways.

2010-06-06T17:23:00.000+02:00

Up the hill. Clouds lowered, dark sky bruises. The green lane to the high hill top was a tunnel of flowers and trees.

And at the top the clouds came down from the sky to walk with us.

She thought that we should go back so we turned to walk through the fields and long grass and I did balancing on water dripping gates that sang rain songs.

The grass was long and the green made out ginger fur shine like the sun and the water pulled our coats to dark points. Clover flowers waited for sunshine and bees.

Warm thanks on a cold sunny day

2010-05-27T14:34:00.000+02:00

She was out in the garden today taking photos of blue sky and flowers and thinking of work when She heard voices. Glyn had come home for the day yesterday, to stay overnight for the first time in months. And She had been worried because Nadolig had been away for a few days. We knew Glyn was coming, so sent word out across the field, and the birds and the butterflies, moths and lizards, all carried the word to Nadolig to come home.

Sure enough, She went round to say hi, and there was the pied cat, stratched out in the cold sun.

And Glyn asked that She send out a message to all those who had sent cards, and drawings and paintings to him. He wanted to say a very warm thank you, for these have kept him going through dark days. And we say thank you too, kind thoughts and gift from strangers have touched and warmed all of our heart.

We hope that next week Glyn will be back to stay. We hope so. The village is not the same without him.

Elmo's day.

2010-05-18T18:26:00.000+02:00

Went walking. Hot day. Lay in a shadey spot.

Back home, chilled out with a few friends.

Dragon's nest.

2010-05-13T10:18:00.002+02:00

Up the hill in the sunshine, cold in the wind on a bright day in May, Elmo went walking, and climbing, for, in a tangle of twigs in a wind blown tree he found a nest.

On reflection though, careful consideration of the size of the nest, Elmo decided that it probably belonged to a dragon not a bird. And it wasn't that Elmo was afraid, because Elmo's don't get scared, he said. It was more that dragons are sacred to cats. So he paid short homage to the twig pile, and descended once more to the green, that set off his beautiful fire coloured coat. ( Fire, he said, to honour the dragon flames for it would seem, according to Elmo, that ginger cats are sacred to dragons too)

So, after a short but perfect balancing act it was time to take Her back to Her studio. She is painting cats.

Summoning

2010-05-09T11:39:00.000+02:00

First, early morning light through apple blossom, bluebells. She has too much work to do, but part of this work should be walking and dreaming. So She takes the bowl from the studio and we head up the hill together, woman, three dogs, bowl and me, Pixie.

The morning now is green grass and sunshine, east wind, early.

On top of the hill we wander and look and sniff and listen, and then it begins, a strange noise, a humming, a rising summoning of dragons. The wind still blows and carries the bowl's song, throwing it high into the air with the skylark exultation and even when She stops the bowl goes on, and on, and on. Beautiful, with the sea song, bird song, wind song, bowl song.

And did they come, on wings of fire blazing glory across a blue sky? Wait, and watch, and see. But most of all........... listen.

Secretary cat.

2010-05-08T16:44:00.000+02:00

The phone rang. She was eating lunch, so Pixie answered it. She, that is Pixie, had a brief chat with John from The Imagine Gallery. Seems that he was trying to hang a drawing when someone came and saved him the trouble and bought it. Pixie mewed a few times then put the phone down. She is so lucky to have a ginger cat secretary. We think it is about time She started drawing cats.

Wild Horses

2010-05-07T19:45:00.000+02:00

It would seem that once again She is in a competition. One of the photos, from Our blog but decidedly lacking in the purest scrap of ginger, has been picked up by a Facebook group. So, if you are on Facebook pop over on this link and vote for Her. Poor dear. She needs all the encouragement She can get, especialy since She lost the camera it was taken with and when it turned up it had been run over by a car or two. Flat camera.

Catmint.

2010-05-07T19:39:00.000+02:00

Elmo: Hide your face quick. I don't think she's noticed.

Maurice: I think She put it there because She knows how much we like it.

Elmo: Ppppprrrrrrrrrrrr. Ppppprrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Later the same morning:

Elmo: Don't you just love the way the morning light slants through dirty windows? Pixie, your my best pal.

The house with a soul.

2010-04-29T08:18:00.002+02:00

In the small white house next door all is quiet again. Jackdaws nest in tangled twigs in the great chimney, as they have done every year. Sparrows make their home beneath shallow eaves. In the barn, a wren's nest, a ball of woven sticks and feather and moss. Swallows swoop, feathers like exotic blue sky jewels. They wait on the wire then drop into the old barns through open doorways that welcome them, as they have done every year. In the garden, around the well of clear water, lizards make nests of eggs. In the dark branches of blackthorn, bride white with blossoms, raucous magpies nest on a mess of sticks. More secret and hidden are the tidy nests of the pore voiced blackbirds who sing in Glyn's garden every morning, every evening.

At night badgers and foxes nose around through spaces that used to be rich in vegetables and owls glide over the midnight garden. Bats criss cross the yard in search of moths. Small and secret things scuttle through the darkest shadows while the moon paints the house in a silver light. Even the stones and wood and slate of the house, even the birds, animals, moth winged creatures, even the moonlight, the starlight, all are waiting. And the black and white cat?
He waits too.

The door to the well of sweet, clear water in Glyn's garden.
Honeysuckle grows over the top.

Smiling

2010-04-28T17:33:00.000+02:00

A knock on the door and who should be there but Glyn and Nadolig. Glyn, home just for the day but hopefully soon home forever and Nadolig happy purring in his arms.

So we all went round to visit, and Glyn was smiles in the sunshine.

Back home through the green and Nadolig came too, to sit in our garden for a while. Soon, soon. Glyn will be back and the summer will come and he will sit in his garden and remember the past and look to the future.

Friend no 2

2010-04-18T19:21:00.000+02:00

Elmo in Wonderland

2010-04-18T18:44:00.000+02:00

Another blue sky day and time for a walk. Soft light, and She found that on the camera there was a special setting for taking pictures of cats.

At the high hill top white ponies grazed and had cleared spaces beneath dry twisted trees.

Elmo and Maurice wrestled and fought and hunted together, then Elmo discovered a tangled place and inside the thorn thicket a great pheasant bird.

Then, as if he knew that over in a far off place called England, in Suffolk, John Foley was having an exhibition called Alice, Elmo, cat most like a Cheshire cat, decided to celebrate by disappearing. One minute he was there, the next minute he was gone.

She called, She waited, She watched, She walked, then we all went to help and all disappeared for a while, which She seemed to think was very helpful. Eventually She gathered us all, except for our Cheshire Elmo and walked home. It was warm and sunny and peaceful. Elmo would be ok. But She couldn't help but worry.

After a few hours She walked back up the green lane that leads to the high hill top. HAlf way up She found Maurice, still looking for Elmo. And then as they crested the high hill top together they heard a call and a ball of ginger fire came bowling down the hill with a great wide grin of greeting.

" Where have you been? I was so worried," She said.

"Down the rabbit hole," smiled Mo.

Just walking

2010-04-18T16:32:00.000+02:00

As we move towards summer.

2010-04-13T23:12:00.000+02:00

Today a speckled brown butterfly threaded a random flight across the path. Today She rescued the brightest lizard from a curious cat, placed it in the safety of an old stone wall. Bright frogs move in the grass, wait under primrose flowers, watch from the safety of emerald shadows and covet the warm places. Soon there will be snakes.

We curl in the sunshine on slates warmed to soft smoothness by the distant fire way off in the sky.

Tonight is the fresh of the darknight. No moon. Only star light. And how they shine in a million brilliant shades of bright. Tonight there are aerymice, flit flicker and flash, darker shapes in a dark sky, silhouettes in starlight. And owls slow flap hunting the hedges.

Friends

2010-04-13T22:51:00.000+02:00

Rosie and Bell. Best friends. Holding paws in a sunshine garden.

We are not sulking

2010-04-07T18:13:00.001+02:00

We are not sulking because Her blog has been shortlisted at The Author Blog Awards and ours has not, no we are not. But we are asking that you go to the page for the shortlist and vote for Her and have a look at the other blogs that have been shortlisted. (Even if you have voted already, because we think that the counting starts again here). Needless to say She is as smug as a cat that got the cream. We know that She only got so many votes because we asked all the cats around the world to vote for Her, but for a while we will let Her think that She is clever.

Her blog is called Drawing a line in time and She is called Jackie Morris. Sometimes it has pictures of us on too.

Sneaking.....ssshhh......

2010-04-03T19:04:00.000+02:00

Ssshhh.... while the cats were sleeping I crept into their blog and posted a sketch from yesterday, cats and Hannah watching Dollhouse in the evening. And all because while I was working they crept into my blog and posted a picture of themselves!

And while I am here there are now short films, one of how I started in illustration, one of The Seal Children and Tell Me a Dragon and one of Can You See a Little Bear.

So, I wonder how long it will be before the cats want film of them on Youtube!

Not Impressed!

2010-03-31T13:49:00.000+02:00

Max: Well, I don't see what is so special about gingercats that they get all the press! No wonder She gets jealous! There'll be no talking to them again when they see this and they'll be wanting gold plates for eating off.

Not the first time they have been in a magazine either, but last time it was before they had a blog.

Her: Well I think they look lovely and at least they did mention me, in passing. Besides, lovely Max, you are the cat that I usually paint. Don't be jealous.

Max: Yes, but did you have to put me in The Owl and the Pussycat picture in Classic Poems? That was a girl cat.

Nights Out and The Author Blog Awards.

2010-03-30T11:28:00.000+02:00

It is not like the Kiffer to miss a meal, so when he wasn't home for two She began to worry and set off to look for him. First stop, Glyn's, but no sign there, which was good as Glyn wasn't home as he is in the care home for a few days longer and She feared that Kiffer had curled up and made himself invisible and been locked in. Next stop, big green shed. Through the mud to the big shed door and She called.

Nothing.

And She called again.

No kiffer.

Worry. Call one more time.

And then, "where have you been? I have been shut in this shed now for twenty four hours and I can't get out and it was dark and I was scared and you didn't come, you didn't!"

"Wait there. I'm off to get the key."

"Let me out. Now. Let me out. Now. Let me out. Now."

And he was still calling as She walked back smiling. Many a rat will have met its end last night. Brave Kiffer.

She got the key. She let him out. He ate his weight in cat food then curled to sleep in the warm.

Now, we know that She is not very interesting, doesn't catch many mice and spends far too long every day playing with paint when She should be looking after us, has not shining coat of ginger and not enough hair, can't even cough up a decent hairball, but we are quite fond of Her and She is quite excited as Her blog is doing well in the author blog awards, so if you haven't already, and remembering that you can vote for us aswell because we are better than Her and there are more of us, please click through on this link and give Her a vote. She my only be human, but She is our human and these little things ( and the guts we left outside her bedroom door last night) do seem to make Her happy. Her blog address is http://www.drawingalineintime.blogspot.comand She called it that because She is usually late and always misses deadlines and because She thinks She is funny. Odd things, humans.

Larking about.

2010-03-27T17:43:00.000+01:00

Walking in the morning and the air was dotted on high with singing larks.

On the way home, up a tree, a bright ball of flame in the tangled twigs.

Eaves dropping from a warm window seat.

2010-03-24T16:30:00.000+01:00

We could hear what they were talking about from the window where we sat in the sunshine. The day started off filthy and wet and dark and we wanted sunshine for Glyn, who was spending another day in his house. As the morning slipped by the sun came out and we went around into the garden with him, where the daffodils dance with heavy heads, double flowers, butter rich. Then Glyn and Nadolig went back inside and we went around and clawed Her out of Her studio where She was doing nothing much and avoiding doing other things.

So when they talked about the photograph She took for him, of the house in the snow lit by early morning light, we heard. And when he said, look, there is one of your cats, we heard. His eyes are brighter, clearer and he can see more. This is good.

Then they looked through some more photographs, old balck and white ones, of his mother, a fierce looking woman. She kept chickens in the yard many years ago. And when they talked of his father, and his father's brother we heard. There was a strange picture on the wall. It said that Glyn's Uncle was one of 'The Fallen' in 1916, on the 1st October. He died in a French field.

And we heard when they looked at a photograph of Glyn aged 18, dressed in army uniform, round faced, only months older than our Tom. All this we heard. And She said that She had to go, but Glyn wanted to talk more, and She said She had things to do, but he didn't want to be on his own. So we told Her to stay, to listen. There are times when work can wait.

He seemed more settled, more steady, in mind and in memory.

And all the time on his lap the black and white cat sat, and smiled.

( Cards for Glyn can be sent c/o Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, St Davids, Pembrokeshire. SA62 6SN, Wales, UK)

A heartfelt thanks.

2010-03-23T14:51:00.000+01:00

Sometimes the cats move over and let me say a few words. This is one such time.
I have just come back after sitting with Glyn for a short while. It warms the heart to see him in his own home sharing a Cornish pasty with Nadolig who seems glued to his knee. Quiet and thoughtful Glyn was settling in to the solitude of home after being in the world of busy institutional life, and though tonight the windows will be dark eyes on the night again, soon he will be home, and Nadolig will sit on the sunshine doorstep and Glyn will enjoy the butterdark dancing daffodils and primroses that decorate his garden.
For now it is good to see him and his heart is full of all the cards he has been sent from all around the world. I know the fact that people from far away and across the wide world sending him get well wishes have helped him through this difficult time. The simple care shown to him and to his cat, the time taken to show such kindness to a stranger, this is what the world should be like always. He sends his thanks and to that I add mine. When he comes home he will bring all his cards back home with him, and his cat blanket that was sent for Nadolig.
So thank you. From all of us.