Pixie, darling Pixie

Over the last few weeks Pixie has been poorly, sneezing and wheezing and snoring and snuffling, finding breathing difficult. Always up for a walk, but in other ways a sad and sorry cat, finding it difficult to clean herself as she has been so stuffed up with cold. The vet has been very worried as she did not respond to anti-biotics. Not wishing to worry anyone we kept quiet and kept Pixie close and cuddled her.
It would seem that now she is rallying. Today she curled tight in a patch of sunshine, sleeping, dreaming and being ginger.
Beautiful, gentle ginger darling.

St Davids Day, The Cat of the West

It is St Davids Day.
We have heard that in England they have big sculptures, The Angel of the North, and they are going to build a Big Horse. We are thinking of trying to get funding from The Arts Council of Wales to have a sculpture of a giant cat dressed in Welsh Costume. Various sites have been suggested, St Davids Head, the cathedral in St Davids, but we think either side of the Severn Bridge on the Welsh side, like great sentinels or guardians, would be just perfect.

Lessons from cats who are good at climbing trees

Concerned for the children, climbing in the tree to build their nest of twigs, we thought it best to give them a climbing lesson......

....or two.

The heart and the soul of the house

The lane that leads to the small white cottage curves a little. Grass grows up the middle of this narrow track. At night, once more, the lights shine through small windows and illuminate the stony yard.
It makes us smile.
Inside the heart of the house sits once more, home, with his shadow, the pied cat, Nadolig.

Shapes like children in the tree

Next week things called 'builders' are coming to build us a new room in which we can paint. She thinks it is a new studio for Her, but we know better. For a while the house will be upside down and even dirtier than usual and all will be chaos. For a while the children will have to live in a house made of grass and twigs in the tree.

Up a tree

Someone dared Her to follow us up the tree, but we say no, no, no, up a tree is not where She should be.

Chasing jackdaws.

High in the tree prayer flags blow colours and prayers into the sky.

In the slant of early morning sunshine ginger fur glows bright.

The pride of my heart.

Today we all went round to see how Mr Griffiths was getting on now that he is home. She worries that he will not be able to cope.
"How are you," She said.
He smiled.
"Fine, and all the better for seeing him," he answered. " I missed him. He is the pride of my heart."
And we thought, what a beautiful thing to say about a cat. And Nadolig sat on the doorstep, round with food, and he smiled to his secret and magical self.
The cat that knew just when to come home.

Invasion of the dog bed.

Walking at the speed of cat.

Up the hill in the blue sky and sunshine, we moved at the speed of cat, which is a little slower than the speed of light.

The witness stone was soft with lichens.

Blue sky and sunshine, a cold wind, raven's wings, soft light on a winter landscape.

Thursday.

Happy man.

Happy cat.

Grey day, bright ginger

In the distance the sea glistens silver, close to the rocks are silvered with beautiful lichen, itself like stone. The sky is wrapped around the world and shining like a pearl, and I glow, ginger.

A short walk only to the rock at the top of the hill that is softened by small twisted blackthorn, purple twigs waiting to bud with white blossom.

From here a cat can see the whole world.

Light through a window shining bright.

The stars are shrouded by a sleight veil this night. The brightest shine through, as light through gossamer. Around the village we walk in a silence still enough to hear the gentle fall of a cat paw. As we circle we wonder, what will we find this night. We hold a fragile hope in our hearts.
Above his house the starlight is clearer, diamond bright, and sure enough through windows, freshly washed and hung with coloured curtains, a late night light shines for the first time in weeks. She stands for a while outside the house and smiles. Inside are the sounds of life. We walk on. It is too late to call tonight. Tomorrow we will go and take flowers, yellow sunshine from the daffodil farm to brighten the room. For now we know he needs nothing, only the peace and space to live. Once more the house has its heart back.
We walk on in the darkness and the light from his window stretches out through the dark behind us.
Life is sweet.

Pixie, caught in the act

Clear water on a forget-me-not blue day

The sun was shining and the sky was blue and they decided to walk up the hill to the place where the porpoise were rising out through the surface of the great grey sea yesterday. The farm yard was muddy so I thought it best to hitch a lift, and so comfortable it was that I allowed him to carry me on, up the green lane.

We walked past the old village and along the wall that breaks the golden winter fields, the stones bone white with lichens, soft pillowed with moss. I rested for a while after posing for photographs, then on and across the dormant heather moor.

On top of the Fox Rocks we relaxed and stretch out in warm sunshine and watched magpies flying below. Out at sea birds clustered around the Gribben, but no porpoise broke the sea surface today. The sea was forget-me not blue, the air was warm and scented with spring.

It was good to be still and to be silent, to listen to the waves bite against the land, to hear the birds call and the soft voice of the wild ponies grazing the golden moorland grasses. Before we turned for home I drank water from a clear pool in a stone basin, so sweet, so beautiful.

The prodigal pied cat

In the midnight moonlit moment She leant against Mr Griffiths's home and whispered to the stone.
We have not seen Nadolig since the first Sunday after Mr Griffiths was taken into the hospital, far away, long ago, and She worried that maybe he had found a new home, a new fire, a new lap. Or maybe the snow was too much and too cold for him.
" Not much longer now. Next week he will come back." We prowled by her side, coats shining with starlight.
" Send word around, through the stones and the rocks, by the birds and the trees. He is coming back. Please, tell Nadolig, wherever he is."

So today, such joy as She looked up from Her washing up (not a thing She usually finds joy in) and there, outside the window, pied and beautiful against the emerald green of the ivy leaves, Nadolig. Out She rushed with a plate of food, the nearest plate to hand, and for Nadolig a feast fit for a prodigal cat, and for the stones and the rocks, the birds and the leaves a whispered thank you.

Walking with cats

It was a day like any other. But then She started trying to tidy up, so we knew something was strange. She put on Her coat and as She was going She said "Now then cats, I want you to be good and come for a walk when I get back and be nice to the lady who is with me. She is coming to see you and she is from the tv."
We do not know where the tv is, but as She walked off down the garden path we looked around at the house. It was time to get to work. Maurice did the dusting, Max tidied things away, Elmo made some soup and just in time Kiffer stopped him putting mice in. Whatever people in tv do they probably do not eat mouse soup. Martha washed up and I made the bed. Then, when we heard the car coming back we all curled up and made like cats.
The sun was shining. It seemed the tv lady had traveled a long way, through rain and snow and was amazed. Pembrokeshire had put on her very best blue sky dress and the sun shone warm on the budding gorse flowers.
So, we gathered and we walked.

Her hair looked very pretty with the sun shining through it.

On top of the hill the wild ponies were on the rock that we wanted to climb, but we walked up anyway, past the witness stone. The low thorn trees hung with lichen, no flowers yet but Kiffer followed the rabbit paths through the twisted thorns.

She seemed very nice, the Lucy lady. She talked of cheetahs, big wild cats in Africa, magical fast creatures. But soon it was time for her to go back to London, through the rain and the snow and away from the warm. A long way to go to walk with cats. Perhaps she will be back. We hope so. She liked the soup.

Houses and homes

Last night the silver moonlight dappled the clouds in the pale night sky, and we whispered to Glyn's house a secret we had heard.
" Wait " we said, " for we have heard that one day next week he will be home." And we are spreading the word to all in the hope that Nadolig will hear and return.
It seemed that the house breathed a sigh in the moonlight. Can a house hold its breath? Maybe one such as this, made from stones from the fields around where it stands, lived in and loved, a home.

Silver memories

Outside the night is silver full moon and shadow light.
We sent her off to hospital again to visit Mr Griffiths and he seemed well, She said, and fed up, in a quiet way of being there. They talked for a while and he asked of the house and Nadolig and they spoke of nursery rhymes and he smiled when he remembered his teacher at school. Jack and Jill was his favorite. And there are rhymes that are from the Welsh language too, he said, though none came to mind at the time, so now She wants to find those. And when She left She asked him to see if he could find them, buried far back in his childhood memories.
His house, bathed in the glow-light of the full moon seems to float on an island, out of time. Almost, if you opened the door now and stepped inside it would take you to another place. Star shine in the darkened windows, secrets shine behind them.

Then

The old village on the hill is almost tumbled down now. Time and coincidence brought these two beautiful photos to Her door. The man in the first picture was born in the house next to which he stands. If you look closely you can also see a man in the second picture, a shadow, a ghost, from long long ago.