The house with a soul.

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

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

Elmo in Wonderland

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

As we move towards summer.

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

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

We are not sulking

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......

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!