Awakening Sounds

                I just started reading a wonderful book about contemplation techniques for artists and writers.  Over the last few years I find myself too easily distracted and am hoping this book will help me focus my thoughts.  For example, I just spent a minute in the middle of typing that last sentence analyzing a long gray hair on my keyboard—I determined it was my own...sigh….Anyway, I’d share the title of the book, but it’s on a different electronic device and Biff won't move off my knees so I can go get it.  Looking over that last statement, I’m starting to form a pretty good theory on the sources of my distracted state-of-mind.

The neighboring church steeple at twilight

                The first suggestion the book makes is to walk, daily if possible, and pay attention as the calls of creation try to catch my attention.  Since it’s already twilight and I’m in my pjs, I modified the exercise to involve sitting on the patio swing listening to world.  What an amazing world it is, an entire symphony of sounds awakening from frozen winter silence!  Gone are the hushed, icy tinkles of blowing snow and the thin rattle of branches rubbing in the wind.  Tonight’s sounds have the resonance of a thawed world, with a much earthier quality and healthier abundance than last month.  Birds are making their final evening calls.  Cars are cruising the street with windows down so teenagers can shout to friends they pass.  Footsteps of dogs and runners and walkers surround me.  The dark is filled with laughter and voices and the sound of shutting doors.

                I can see multiple cat faces peeking out the kitchen window, meowing protests at being left inside.  How can I concentrate when I'm being stared at?  Oh well, it’s too cool to stay out much longer anyway.  I think I’ll return another evening for a healthy dose of nature’s distractions.  The world has much to say over the electric din of our gadgets.

Recipe for a Blissful Nap

Toby didn't make it to the bed before he crashed

                Looking ahead at the seven-day forecast I see several open-window days.  When I was a kid, I judged the quality of the spring weather by the opportunity to go barefoot.  Now I rate a spring day highly if the temperature is mild enough to open the windows and the breeze gentle enough to soothe the soul.

                An open window, preferably with a soft wind blowing through it, is essential for the blissful kind of nap I dream of all winter long.  What makes spring naps superior to those of other seasons is that they usually follow mornings of hard work getting the yard back into shape.  I love the energy spring weather gives me—enough to break out of winter hibernation and tackle the world head-on.  It feels good to loosen up the muscles with the help of the sun’s warmth soaking through my jacket.  After a few hours, exhaustion calls me to rest.

                The cats operate on the same principle:  long hours exploring outdoors + a soft bed in front of the window = unconsciousness.  Ever since my daughter gave up naps at age three, I’ve had a very deep appreciation for afternoon sleep and am thankful the cats agree.  For some reason (I’m certainly not complaining) they are willing to share the bed during the day, unlike at night when they hog my side.  If you need me for anything, don’t call between 2:00 and 3:00—I’ll be busy.

Biff and Finnegan napping together

Small Wonders

           Some years I miss them.  It happens when the snow overstays its welcome and forms a hard crust along the boulevard.  During those springs, the snowdrops bloom beneath the snow and I don't find their spent blossoms and withered foliage until the thaw finally comes--a lost opportunity to glimpse life's return.
            This year I'm blessed.  There, nestled among the cracked remnants of last autumn's leaves and the bleached grass awaiting rain, is a beautiful bouquet.  Snowdrops--tiny and unobtrusive, remarkable only for their early arrival.  If they waited just a week longer to appear, they'd be lost in a world turning vibrant green. For today, though, they hold the entire hope of spring in their hardy petals, and for that they are loved..
            

Spring Yardwork

              A little rain has brought a little green--just enough to inspire some ambition for yardwork.  Spring is the one time of year when the joy of being outdoors trumps my aversion to raking and pruning.  The silent winter air is alivened  with singing and chattering and the trickling of running water.  The sun warms my upturned face and the cats are frolicking in the yard for my entertainment.  There’s nothing like sensory overload after being cooped up for five months!

                The cats love having their people outdoors with them.  What’s the point of hunting bugs and climbing trees if there’s no one to see them do it?  I feel a little like the mother of preschoolers being bombarded by a chorus of “Watch this, Mom!”  

                Not only are we an audience for the cats, they are an audience for us.  Over the last week, they’ve been utterly fascinated as my husband replaced brakes on Jake, his ’47 International pick-up.  To get a better view, they are not afraid to climb on the roof, through the cab, or under the frame.  They’ve also joined me on the ladder while I put the canvas roof on our gazebo and rode in the wheelbarrow while I was hauling branches. Their favorite playspot is on a crinkly, ripples-in-the-breeze tarp loaded with old leaves and BUGS! to pounce on.

             As for me, I'm just happy to be outside without a coat and four layers of clothes.

Happy Spring!

Jersey is no longer lily-white

             Today the cats celebrated spring's arrival by taking dust baths in the backyard.  Every last one of them came in the house proudly sporting a gritty, brown coat and a cloud of dust.  It was like having a whole brood of Pigpens from the Peanuts comic strip over for after-school snacks.  
             A long nap burrowed into our bedroom quilt will be all it takes to shed their new found dirt.  I suspect that when I go to bed tonight there will be 5 brown circles on the cover.  Between dust this week and muddy footprints last, I guess it's time to wash the bedspread.  Let the spring cleaning begin!

Happy Cat Appreciation Month!

                Today I received an email from the vet announcing that March is “Cat Appreciation Month.”  It was a well-timed reminder to quit complaining about my furry friends and start being thankful for the blessing they are in my life.  Right now, for example, Biff and Finny are curled up beside me as I type.  Their warm, fluffy bodies are not only comforting to snuggle with, their complete abandonment to sleep helps me relax.

4/5 of the clowder at rest

                The clowder is also a source of endless amusement.  Today Toby decided that piano lessons were all about him.  Every time a student started to play a recital piece, Toby would flop across the piano bench and wave his marvelously majestic tail in the pupil’s face until he received the stroking and scratching he wanted.  If the petting stopped and the playing restarted, the tail shot right up to tickle the musician’s nose.

The cast of characters changed in an instant

              It was quite entertaining for everyone involved but not a very productive use of lesson time.  Shortly afterwards, I caught four of the five lounging together on the bed.  I took a photo and in the seconds it took to set the camera down, Jersey came in and took Toby’s spot.  It took a moment to figure out why the animal grouping looked different.  Sometimes I think they do things like that on purpose to make me question my sanity—at least this time I had photographic evidence to back me up (see blog pictures).

                Comfort and entertainment—I guess those are good reasons to appreciate my feline friends.  I’ll add that they are great listeners and cute to look at. All that almost leads me to admit they earn their keep.  If you have cats of your own, be sure to appreciate them this month.  If you don’t, you are always welcome to enjoy mine.

Senior Privileges

Jersey likes to pick out her own popcorn

                With old age comes certain entitlements—at least if you are the only female feline in a house of tomcats.   Jersey is approaching 84 in cat years.  In exchange for playing the part of prey during Frank’s hunting practice, she insists on receiving a few specific benefits.  First off, the space on the pillow between my head and the headboard is hers.  Frank will just have to settle for sleeping on my shoulder.  She refuses to relinquish this spot even when he lies on top of her.

                Secondly, twice a day she herds me to the bedroom for her dose of chicken-flavored morphine syrup.  Yes, she is addicted and we are her enablers.  The arthritis that she takes it for hasn’t made an appearance in several months…not one limp or stiff movement or hesitant jump.  By all appearances she doesn’t need the pain killer, but no one here has the heart to cut her off and deal with kitty withdrawal symptoms. 

                Her third senior privilege is popcorn.  Not only does she have my husband trained to hand feed her every day during our noon Netflix break, she will only take the popcorn that is saturated with butter.  If he gives her a plain piece, she will ignore it and climb into the bowl searching for a tastier one herself (he’s a good sport to let her!).

                When pets are younger, we spend countless hours teaching them manners and good behavior, but when they are twice our age, it just doesn’t seem right to tell them what to do.  I guess by virtue of surviving this long, they earn a little slack.

Free at Last!

           Praise the Lord!  Just when I was ready to sell all the cats on Ebay (dirt cheap), cabin fever left  and spring fever moved in.  All the cats except for Biff have resumed their outdoor lives, only coming in occasionally to check the dish for fresh food before quickly returning to their backyard adventures.  

           Biff still hasn’t built up the courage to venture out.  I did toss him onto the patio in an attempt to fumigate him, as he was getting a little musty from inactivity, but he spent the entire time with his  forehead against the door looking completely despondent so I let him back in.  He’s gradually working up his nerve by sitting in the open bedroom window listening to the rustling leaves and chirping birds. 

           Speaking of birds, the robins showed up three and a half weeks later than usual.  I was beginning to worry that this was a harbinger of a really long winter, so it is with much relief that I listen to them sing at sunrise.

           Jersey has returned to her post on the neighbors’ back patio.  Yesterday she stared through the window at them for six hours straight.  For this she was rewarded with ample treats and Frank-free time.  When Frank is out of the house, his reign of terror over the other cats takes a hiatus.  Ruthless Mr. Stalk-and-Hunt-his-Housemates turns into sensitive Mr. Gaze-at-Birds-and-Bugs.  He’ll grow bolder once the novelty of nature wears off and by April he’ll be bringing home prey to thank us for keeping him.  For now, we are all enjoying the reprieve from his bad behavior. 

           Finnegan and Toby head for higher ground whenever they go out.  If I want to track them down, my best bet is to look up.  Sure enough they’ll be perched like owls in the high branches of the crabapple or locust tree.  Those two are also most likely to find mud and track it through the house.   Lately I’ve spotted footprint paths over, under, and around furniture that remind me of a Family Circus comic.

            Peace has settled upon the household now that the clowder can spread out and run off steam.  At night, once we’ve finally rounded them up and the headcount comes out at “five,”  they quickly and soundly fall asleep….There’s nothing like fresh air to tucker out their playful spirits!

Follow the tracks to find the cats