Monochrome days of rain.

We walked in the rain and the monochrome sky made the gorse glow even more golden.

Between tree and stone, above sea, we sheltered in emerald light and the rain drops dripped.

Then out again through low heather waiting for sun to bring out flowers and past the bluebells that shine in the gray light, back home.

Sky dancers

Walking up the hill on a gray day, past the low cottage where Glyn is eating his solitary breakfast and up the emerald lane we disturb a family of four young ravens, newly fledged and full of the first joys of awkward flight. They rise into the wind and are tossed around in the turbulent sky while their parents sail on the ocean of air like anthracite bird ships, so in tune with their element, so sure and swift.
The parents dance with the wind, folding back wings to tumble in ecstasy, hanging still on the wind's edge. The young ones will learn how to balance the air on their soot black wings. For now they delight in their stumbling flight as we watch and wish for wings.

Cat dreaming and the night song.

It is night and the half light of the half moon silvers puddles and pools. The wind is fierce, not cold but fierce. She blows and howls her song across the land and right on the edge of hearing she carries fox howls.
In the dark she plays with the golden gorse and dances in the lace fringed branches of the ash tree, no longer showing winter bones against the clouded sky, but clothed in new leaves.
It is night and darkness dances with the wind. Clouds sail fast across the rain bruised sky and throw their heavy cargo to the earth with a music that counters the song of the wind, the call of the foxes, the bleating of sheep and the distant dog bark.
It is night and we curl together in warm places and dream our dreams.

Ginger, green and more ginger.

We walked up the hill to where the bluebells make the ground shine with blue haze and the air smell beautiful, but the wind was strong and it started to rain. Kind Robin picked me up to shelter me inside his strange coat which is not of fur, but I wanted to walk, so said thank you but no, I would walk in the rain as I walk in the sun.

There were long horned ginger cows by the old village with great horned heads, and I would like some horns like that so I could be the great-horned-ginger-cat of the hills.

Maurice has been taking naughty lessons from Elmo.

As you can see the ash tree is growing a gown of green leaves.

So, if I stick my tongue out I look rude and if I go like this....

... I look fierce, and if I go like this.......

...you can see my poo is cat shaped!
And if I go like this.....

...you can see that I am just beautiful!

Owl hunting

Dusk walking, owl hunting and the light fades from the day turning all gray, except for the golden gorse. The air is scented with honeysuckle, gorse, bluebell and twilight.
Five cats walk in ginger chain up the darkening green lane to the high hill top and wings flutter and flush in the twisted thorn bushes.
Across the fields a blackbird sings, is answered and sings again. From the moorland the cuckoo calls its twilight song.
Aerymice paint black flashes against the dark gray cloud filled sky. The pattern of their flight looks like music.
Only the birds sing. All else is silence, waiting for darkness.

Painting the moon-eyed, heart-faced hushwing and his bride

So this is how it was. She had slept well and was feeling calm and rested and together we walked to the top of the hill, at first just me and Kiffer and Elmo, but Maurice was hunting by the barns and he came too. We had told Her to leave the camera behind. Just walk. Just rest.
The sun was shining and the wind was cold and it blew patterns in our ginger. Too windy to hear cuckoo call, but all around small birds flew and flowers danced.
At the top of the hill Elmo stood up, as tall as tall as he could on his very tip toes, just like a small man in a cat suit! Then in his usual style and with amazing flair he stood on his head! We could see that She wished for Her camera, so we all four gathered in a small pool of ginger and posed so beautifully, just for Her. And we sat close to Her and She stroked us and we watched the birds fly below our perch on the high rock. The cares and worries blew away on the breeze.
All too soon we headed for home. On the path back down She would look behind, one, two three, four, checking we all followed. One, two, three and four, and yes, we were all there. One, two, three and four, and She is quite good at counting, if they are small numbers. One, two, three and f.......
"Where's Elmo?"
Gone.
She sauntered back up, still relaxed, calling.
No Mo.
The wind was strong so She couldn't hear him calling.
Still no Mo.
She walked down again. Maybe he had run in front, but no Mo.
And back and She waited and She called and She worried. She couldn't leave him there on the hill all day, alone. Time was passing and we could see that She was getting quite worried. No Mo anywhere in sight.
And then all of a sudden, one two, three and ..... four. There he was, wondering what all the fuss was about.
So I went to see and he had found secret tunnels that led through the gorse, and so now of course there were still one, two, three and ...
" Where's Pixie!"
At last we were all together again and back down the hill and then She bundled stuff into the car and off She went to do something called work.
We could hear Her saying, under her breath, "thanks cats. Lovely walk. And now I am late."
Nice that She took the time to say thank you.

Hunting

Today She is walking without us. She has gone to try and get closer to the cuckoo we heard yesterday. But we know the secret of cuckoos. You cannot get closer to them, but have to wait for them to come to you.

Tomorrow She is leaving us again and will be in the place where She is making an exhibition of Herself again, only this time She will be painting, or rather gilding while anyone that wants to can watch. We know what She is like when She is working and we wonder if it is safe for people. Will She get cross and throw things and say bad words like She sometimes does here? Beware, we say, sometimes the artist bites!

This is what She will be working on, two mooneyed, heartfaced hushwings. A big painting.

ps. the exhibition is in The Cloisters Gallery a St Davids Cathedral, Pembs and if all goes well She will do the same thing next Saturday too, from 11 am -5 pm. And again at Art in Action in July near Oxford. She might sign some books too, if people want Her to.

Poolcats

Elmo: Maurice, quick, look. There's a cat in this pool that looks just like me!
Maurice: There's two in this one!

May

It is May, early morning dew drop scattered May. As we walk together up the green lane to the high hill top we are thinking of cuckoos. The swallows came a while back, the swifts are here too now and on the walls wheatears are dancing. Whitethroats sing in the gorse, skylarks throw down song from on high and everywhere stonechats chip chip. Chiff chaff and wren fill hedges with their sound, but so far we have not heard one cuckoo.
We walk and the dew drops drip and cling to our fur and the scent of the gorse is the thin early morning before the sunshine scent.
Then there, right on the edge of hearing, so faint that it might not even have been, cuckoo. Was it real? Was it an echo of a memory of the call of the cuckoo. But no, again, still faint, cuckoo. Somewhere, away, over the moor, a cuckoo calls.
It is May.

Paws For Charity Picture

This is the photograph that is in the Paws For Charity Book, taken some time ago. She thought it was Maurice, but it's me, Pixiecat. It was taken on a blue sky day.

The book is full of cats and dogs and was made to raise money for a cancer charity, though not for medical research as She didn't want our picture to be used for anything that might fund experiments on animals.

Paws for Charity

It is a long time since we have walked over the hill to where the post stands by the blue sea. In the early morning we walked over today and the bluebells were beginning to flower by the path by the sea. For a while we sat and decided who it would be who would run up the post. Then Elmo played the game that makes Her heart stop, the game of getting really really close the the edge and jumping over......
.... and landing on the ledge below that She can't see. Gets Her every time!
And we went to the post because one of us is in a book called Paws for Charity, and you can buy the book and find out lots about it here.
Then we walked back up the hill and Elmo played kissing the gorse bush.

Twilight walking with Elmo

It was early when She got up. The light was only just being sung into the day. Ginger shines bright even in morning twilight.

So we walked together, just me and Bella and Floss and Rosie and Her and I dipped my paw into the sweet water pool on top of the rock, to watch it ripple in morning light.

For a short while we sat to watch the world begin to wake. The air was dotted with larks and larksong, the sound of the sea and the scent of the salt.

On the way back I posed like a wild cat lion on the post by the arrow that marks the way.

Then home through the golden gorse. For She had to be somewhere, to hang something. But I , I am a cat, and I had other important business.

Sleeping.
And dreaming.

If....

... you are lucky enough that a ginger cat should stand on your feet you will find that it makes your head light up!

A Business Meeting

So, we are working on a book together, She and I, and in order to get some time to think about it, off we went for a walk today, over the hills and far away.

I talked to Bella, wise dog, and thought long and hard. The gorse was golden. Ravens chased hawks across blue sky and skylarks called down from way on high. There were bluebells by the badger set. The new foals were everywhere, lounging in warm sunshine. We talked about our book and threw ideas around. The grass is coloured with squil, blue flowers, slightly paler than the bluebells. A first draft is almost written and next week we will take it to a publisher. In the meantime, we just sit and look at the view.

Pixie's plan.

This week I will be mostly writing a book. I have waited patiently for Her to do it and given Her lots of ideas, but have decided that I cannot wait any longer. She is busy colouring in, so I am going to write it.
Next week I will be looking for a publisher, and an illustrator. Maybe She might be able to do the pictures. She is quite good at painting big cats but not very good at painting real cats like me.

A fearful day.

Elmo did not come for supper last night.
Elmo did not come for breakfast this morning.
So, when Elmo did not come for supper again this evening She got very worried.
First call, to see Mr Griffiths. He had said that Nadolig had been away for a few days and sometimes the we take it in turns to stay with him and keep him company.
Glyn was well, enjoying the sunshine, but no, he had not seen a ginger for a few days.
So, with fearful heart She went off to look. She called, and She called, and peered in through a gap in the door of a shed. No sign.
And then She heard it.
Miaow.
She looked around.
No cat.
MIAOW.
From inside the shed, the biggest big shed, the call came.
MIAOW MIAOW MIAOW.
So now She has gone to get Nick or Hannah, to the farm where Fred lives, to get the key to open the door, to let Elmo out. And we are glad, because Elmo will only be hungry when he comes out, and he will still be ginger and beautiful, though a little bit dusty.


An hour later with key in hand and Elmo yowling like an opera singing cat on the other side She opened the door and out he came.

He told Max he had followed a butterfly in there.
He told Maurice he was chased by a monster.
He told Kiffer that a sheep had called to him and when he went inside had shut the door on him.
He told Martha that he was chasing a mouse that ran in.
And he told me that he had wandered in out of Curiosity and then got scared when the farmer came and hid until he went away and then found that the door had disappeared.
And I told him he was lucky, because we all know about Curiosity and what it did to the cat.
But we are all glad to have him back.
Naughty Elmo.

The Blossom Moon

The Blossom moon follows close behind the sun so that even as the sun has set the moon has almost completed her path across the sky to set also.
Her crescent hangs so beautiful in the almost night sky with stars and still a faint kiss of light from the sun in the far west.
Aerymice flit, flickering the starlight with dark wings.
In the balance of deep gloaming light we gingers are almost invisible.
In the balance of deep gloaming light the crescent of the Blossom moon glows. We can see the crescent, a cats claw of white, and we can see the whole of the moon. It is beautiful.

Brownielocks and the three gingers

Let me in, let me in, by the hairs on my chinny chin chin, or I will huff and puff and blow your house down.