Warm fire

On top of the hill the wind blew chill but sheltered in the rocks and mosses our fur held tight to the warmth of the early spring sunshine. We glow, like fire.

Walking holding tails

Not enough ginger

She has been very busy shut up in Her studio, but has still walked a little with us. So, we were pleased to see that She has been painting cats for covers for books by Robin Hobb. On closer inspection our only criticism is that there is not enough ginger in the picture.

Pole Dancing

We love Robin Hobb and we love her books and we love her rage against blogging. She is a star. And today we are poledancing for her.

Time for walking

The day was full of sunshine and larksong as we headed over the hill and far away. Curious sheep watched as we passed by.

On the wall the early spring sunshine felt warm on our fur. We stopped for a while to rest.

In a line we walked along the paths and everywhere birds shouted their songs.

The ponies watched, warmth caught in their coats and smelling of spring grass and sea spray.

The day too good for words should be left to the unintelligible language of birds. Whispers of summer hang in the air. Buzzards circle is lazy flight, raven call and chough swoop and swing, dancing on air.

Long walk. Now it is evening and we wait for the moon to rise. Yesterday the moon rose red in the night sky. While we wait we lounge languid by the fire and dream of the hill, and dream of wings.

Egg Hunt

We walked up the hill looking for eggs and the Easter Hare, with Hannah and Kim and Tom.

And the eggs were hidden and hard to find but the grass was green and the gorse rich with flowers smelling of coconut. Shy violets and celandine begin to bloom and dot the lane with colour.

Tangled in the twisted branches of the ancient gorse bushes secret golden eggs lay in small clutches.

We walked across the top of the hill to look at the sea. In the lane the high stone walls sheltered us from the worst of the wind. On the top our ears were blown flat, eyes narrowed to small slits. But the sea was huge and dancing. And on the way back we helped the children find more hidden eggs, wrapped in bright foil colours and shining.
But we did not catch even a glimpse of the Easter Hare. Maybe she was resting.

Wild and windy days

Walking in the wild wind and searching for the Easter Hare, the sea was wild and the wind fierce. She lay down for a while and was a wonderful wind break. Then She picked me up and put me in her coat, like a hot water bottle. The wind blew my ears flat, but it was warm in the coat as we made our way home. We did not see the hare, and we did not find eggs. Maybe tomorrow.

Eggs

Outside the wind blows fast through a night rich with the silver light of a full moon. If the wind does not steal away the electricity again we cats here would invite all those who prowl and surf to an egg hunt on Sunday, to search through the green lanes for bright jewels of shining eggs. For the woodcat hare was seen running fast past the house.

The Quiet of a Peaceful Place

The bright moon paints each leaf with a thin silver light. It is still enough tonight to hear a mouse speak.

Sitting on a lap

Another girl came to live here and she has a warm lap to sit in and likes cats and is French. We keep muddling ourselves up and shuffling ourselves so that she doesn't know which one is which apart from Max, who delighted her with his dark beauty.

Resting in colour

For along time now we have been resting, saving our energy for a walk in the sunshine. The wind blew hard for a while and then it was still, but it had been hungry and first it ate the phone line and not satisfied with that it ate the electricity.

So we waited, curled in warm places that made us look beautiful as we like to be aesthetically pleasing when we are dreaming.

Elmo stretched on the beanbag with his toes curled and a hook in his tail. His whiskers twitched as he dreamed of trees.

Pixie curled on the red cushion that shows her fur at its finest. Later Her and Robin watched a film with singing and we hid behind him and played at being big ginger rabbit ears to make him look silly. I don't think he saw us.
We have a phone line again now so we can blog, and electricity, for now anyway.

My dog

Sometimes I curl up next to Floss on the purple blanket. Both curled ammonite tight, we share our dreams of the high hills, blue sky and buzzards.

Surviving the Storm

It came in on stealthy paws. First there was an unquiet stillness of the air. We could hear the murmur of the distant sea song rising. Then the wind began to blow. At first the wind was not too strong. We walked to the top of the hill, ears blown flat and fur ruffled. The horses were dancing in the fields with the wind in their tails. A wild excitement filled the air. At night it seemed that there was no storm as the wind blew from the south.
But on the third day the wind turned. It roared down the chimney and shook the windows. When we walked at night there were no stars and the rain cut at our faces like cold needles. It waited around corners, was cruel and harsh. So we curled in the warm of the house and waited too, for the calm to return.

And yesterday the dark heaviness lifted with a blue-sky and stormy day. The hawks all sat high on poles and trees, dazzled by hunger, watching and waiting. Buzzards flew like kites, tethered to rabbits confused by the storm. Small birds filled the hedgerows, all hunting, black rooks were thrown across the sky in ragged robber bands, but we still stayed curled in the warmth by the fire. It was a day of sharp contrast, of black and white shadow. At night the sky was blown clear of clouds and the small moon threw shadows again on the silver dappled ground.
Now the great dragon wind has moved on. There is almost a stillness outside. The trees still rattle with the odd memory of wind but the world is quiet and pearly gray and soft. The storm has passed while we have dreamed our cat dreams, curled happy together in the warm by the fire.

Reading through the Storm

"Afterwards I shut myself away inside the walls of Sessruminger with only my cats for company. Cats, I decided, had certain advantages over men. They were loyal without being sycophantic, independent without being absent, and affectionate without being rapacious. That they choke up balls of fur and leave dead rodents at my feet is unfortunate. But it is not grounds for divorce."
From Iceland by Betsy Tobin
A book that has kept her reading through the storm. A book with a woman with a cloak of falcon wings and a sharp independence of nature. A book about love.

Where cats grow.

On a warm, sunny morning we walked up the hill and found a place where ginger-cats grow. They seep and they creep from the bark of a bush, all bright and beautiful. We watched for a while, hidden in long grass and even as we watched the ginger began to wriggle and to move and it pushed away from the rough bark and grew legs and whiskers and a new cat was born. She stalked away from the wood and out into the world and a life of adventure.

A Postcard from Pipehouse.

Dear Cats,
Having a lovely time away, though I have been working very hard, putting up the exhibition and having the preview and talking in schools. Staying in a lovely house and there is a cat here called Calypso. She has been sleeping on the bed and curling up with me and helping me to write. She is a calico cat with eyes like amber fire.
Calypso knows a great deal about books as she helps Tessa to run Barefoot Books.
It is cold here and each morning when I wake up the grass is painted silver with frost. So far I have seen no hares, but lots of wild deer.
Hope you are ok and don't miss me too much and that Deb and Al are looking after you and keeping you warm.
Love
Jackie
PS Here are some pictures of the exhibition, and here are some pictures of places I have been.