I suppose I could just ask them. I do talk to my flowers. But do I listen to them? That be the question.
What a perfect day yesterday was. Sleeping with the window open all night, I hear the birds start up around 3 a.m. The cool air is divine when I’m toasty in my blankets. Alas, no sweetpeas are blooming beneath the bedroom window … but you can’t have everything. Next year I’ll put some there.
Today promises to be equally gorgeous: sunny, neither too hot nor too cold. Watering is required though, so I’ve gone out in my slippers to start the sprinkler running on the front lawn.
A certain someone is back in the land of the Great Spirit and anxious to get home. Perhaps I’ll be pleasantly surprised later, although the text that came in at 6:30 this morning should lead me to believe it won’t be today. He says he’s off on a tour and will call me when it’s over. My response: LOL Haven’t you had your fill of touring yet? You nut.
His holiday is over and in a way, then, so is mine. It’s been a good break from each other; lots of space in which to think and feel, and no confusion, irritation or distraction. My hermit soul has been fed. I may be fortified well enough to put up with him again. Ha! That sounds bad. It’s tongue-in-cheek. What I really mean is: I’ll be glad to see him.
Another kitten has disappeared. Now there are five.
There are two litters of kittens at the front of the barn. The two litters are combined. One mother, returning from a hunt, entered the back of the barn and came trotting up between the stalls with a rodent in her mouth. The other mother met her halfway. The hunter gave her the rodent and watched her eat it, then came and nursed all the kittens.
Cat colony culture. Who knew?