Silly Cat Games

Eddie seeks her here...

He seeks her there...

But he can't find Miss Susie Hutchins...

Anywhere.

Spring-like Stirrings

Though I know full well that winter's a long way from over, Saturday and Sunday were a lovely respite.  I spent a little time pruning, scratching around in the dirt, removing some early weeds and admiring the pansies which are trying to stand up after being buried in the snow.
 

Eddie helped.

Beneath the dead leaves of the Siberian Iris, daffodils are pushing toward the light.

 I trimmed the dead foliage so it wouldn't form a mat, but scattered it back over those impatient shoots, hoping to slow them so they don't get nipped by the next snow.

 Both cats enjoyed the sun . . .

And when the sun dropped behind the ridge and I returned to the house, it felt as if my veins were full of champagne rather than blood.

How glorious to get a foretaste of Spring!

 

Eddie Does Christmas

Eddie Again

Eddie, out for a stroll,

Finds your interest rather droll.

"No more photos, I ask,

They distract from my task!"

Now if he could just find that vole.

 .... and a classy rendition in French, courtesy Miss Yves:


.....................................
Eddie, de sortie pour une balade
Trouve votre intérêt plutôt banal.

-J'ai dit:"Plus de photos!"
Elles me détournent de mon boulot.

S'il pouvait seulement trouver ce mulot ...
..................................
Eddie: cheese!


I'm (me, Vicki, not Eddie) being interviewed over at Susan Whitfield's blog today (not sure what time it'll be posted.) She wants to know more about Ba's pound cake. Stop by, if you like and say hi!)

Farewell, Old Girl...

Molly was old when she came to us. We adopted her when our neighbor Eileen had to go into a nursing home. We were never sure of Molly's age -- she could have been fourteen, maybe older, when we said goodbye to her on Friday.

I blogged recently about her -- a cheerful old thing, in spite of deafness and arthritis. But for the past few weeks, she's been increasingly confused. When she became completely incontinent, the time had come. 

Never easy -- but in this case we knew it was coming. 


Someone asked a few days ago for an update on our dogs and cats. It's odd to find ourselves down to three dogs after many years of having six. 

But I'll do a quick rundown of the dogs that have been part of our lives  and this blog for the past three years.

Sweet Bear ( the original of Ursa who lives on in the Goodweather books) and happy Jack have been gone about a year .

Dan, the Border Collie, Maggie, the Mountain Cur (original of Elizabeth Goodweather's Molly,)  and William (Elizabeth's James) remain. Dan's the youngest -- maybe four. Maggie is twelve, William is older -- maybe fourteen.

The cats Eddie and Miss Susie Hutchins both seem ageless.

 

Often appearing in my pictures are Otis (in front) and Ali Ali. They live with Justin and Claui in another house on our farm. 

So many happy memories . . .

 

Eddie Is Caught Unprepared . . .

Blog Tour - First Stop

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I'm not here today. I'm blogging about The Day of Small Things over at Poe's Deadly Daughters, the first of four mystery-related blogs I'm visiting in support of the new book. The post won't be up till 6 am EST on Saturday, so you early birds in California, NZ,  England, and Elsewhere will have to wait a bit if you choose to visit.

I'd really love it if you'd click over and leave a comment at PDD -- make me feel like one of the popular kids...

What's more, your comment over there will enter you in a drawing for a signed copy of The Day of Small Things -- my author's copies just arrived!

(And no, I didn't take the photo of the heron and I'm not sure of its origin -- I kind of think some one sent it to me -- if it was you, let me know and I'll give credit where it's due for this gorgeous shot.)

Silent Saturday

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Shedding Beauty

The crepe myrtles that have bloomed so exuberantly are on the way out, flinging their tiny crinkled petals with wild abandon so that all around, everything is blooming pink . . .

The tiger lily and the liriope are blushing . . .

While pink puddles form on the clouded greenhouse windows. . .

 And atop the steps of stone.

 

Even Eddie is adorned.

More Tough Love

The tomatoes above look nice and full and healthy.  Too full, however. 

I spent some time in the garden, removing the lower leaves and the suckers from the tomatoes.  They look rather sad and spindly now but they'll be benefitted by increased air around them and perhaps they won't get the dreaded blight for a while. 

As I worked, I could hear the bray of the vuvuzelas from the house where the World Cup was on.

and I felt a closeness to the rest of the world as I oonched along on my rear end down the rows of tomatoes.

And on the subject of pruning for better air circulation, I've been trimming great fur wads off of Eddie's hindquarters. It's a slow and inexact process as I have to catch him unawares and I can get in one snip before he brings his claws into action.  But over the past week, I've made a bit of progress . . .

It will grow back, Eddie -- I promise.

 A few pictures from the garden . . .