For cat lovers only...

The rest of you, take a pass or prepare to be bored.

Merlin - Day 1 and 2:

Saturday night when we brought him (a confirmed "him") in, he was pretty upset. Sunday morning I held him a couple times, but he was still scared. By Sunday evening, he was starting to come around, and by Monday morning, the boys were able to hold him gently, and he was purring as we dutifully rubbed (and rubbed, and petted, and rubbed some more) his little furry form. He spent a lot of naps on top of us, contented at last.

Today - Day 3:

What I thought would take weeks, this tough little guy has accomplished already. Last night we let him play with Doof, which went over wonderfully. He started purring loudly and went over and smacked Doof on the butt, then rolled over and scooted around on his back, batting and playful. Within 2 minutes, they were chasing each other in circles around the room, taking turns crouching and stalking one another. I think this will be the key to calming Doof down a lot and giving him something to do besides be obnoxious and get fat.

He handles almost like a kitten that's been tame from birth, with an amazingly calm and tolerable personality. We are so proud of our new addition!

Testing sending blog entries from my phone. Hope everyone had a great fathers day!!

More sorcery

Introducing Merlin

Or Merlina - as we don't know yet...

New beginnings

Dear Brent and Alex:

For the last couple weeks, after you both are in bed, we've been going outside and tending to a litter of kittens and their mother that have been coming around. I make them a huge pan of food and we sit painstakingly still in front of it and wait as they slowly found the nerve to get closer to us.

We made a lot of progress in the last few days - not knowing why we were even doing it, just going with the flow. There are four little kittens with four distinct personalities. The one that has always been the bravest, we named Merlin. He (or she) is black and white, just like his mom, and has gotten to where we can carry on as usual, swinging and talking and laughing, and he never flinches. The others eventually follow suit, but they are still a bit skittish.

Last night I thought I'd see just how far he would let me get. I perched myself on the ground in front of the pan and waited. After calling them, Merlin poked his head out from behind the shed and pranced down to get a better look. He took a couple minutes to think about things, but still came to eat soon enough. I slowly leaned foward, wiggling a finger into the food and talking to him. He stayed. I balanced a glob of turkey-flavored goop food on my finger and placed it near his nose. He ignored me, and kept eating. So I figured I'd go for it, and tried petting him slowly. My hand touched between his ears and I expected him to bolt away. He never moved. So I sat there petting him, not softly even. He let me rub his shoulders and pat his backside. By this time Einstein had joined him, and she even let me gently pet her for a moment before stepping back to politely ask me to stop. She's one of the two calico colored ones, with tan spotty rings around her eyes that look like perfect spectacles. The other calico we named Glitch - she's the runt and the most skittish for now.

The fourth one we call Bo. He's moody and some days will show very little fear, while others he stays a bit flighty. Last night he did eat, but kept a glare toward me in a definite 'not ready to be touched' stance.

I got a little braver, and picked up Merlin to put him closer to me, but still where he could eat. He didn't mind at all. Eventually I tried putting him on my lap, and he stayed for a second before bounding off to join the others for their nightly outing on the shed roof. They climb a ladder to get up there and play around each evening while we panic watching them.

So, tonight we're going to see if Merlin wants to join our little family inside. We think he'll say yes, and if so, I wanted you to know his backstory. He seems perfectly brave and sweet and I think he can handle the two of you just fine.

Love,
Mom

Fruit of our labors

Weeded at last and looking good!

Blackberry

Grapes

Beans

Plums

Baby Pepper

Tomatoes

Snap Pea

Baby Cucumber

Zucchini

Dear Brent and Alex:

Tragedy has a layer of hope just beneath its surface, waiting for the pain to wear away with time so that it can shine into the darkness. The balance of life is so frail, and sometimes by the time we see someone leaning a bit one way or the other, it is too late to reach out a hand to save them. Today there is an uncle you may never have a chance to meet, and a permanent mark on the hearts of people you love.

You hear stories of miracles every day, and at times it only serves to make you angry at the ones that didn't appear. But the truth is - the REAL truth is - we are surrounded by them every day of our lives. Each morning when you walk into my room and pat my back to wake me up - a miracle. A miracle that you can wake from your warm bed, oblivious to the storms that passed in the night. A miracle that you are healthy. A miracle that someone discovered a way to bring electricity into our home through tiny wires. A miracle that talented artists bring stories and cartoons to our living room, for pure pleasure. A miracle that you can take 10 minutes to decide what to eat for breakfast, with all the choices of food we have that fills the refrigerator and shelves from the store...that you can eat until you are full, as so many are not afforded.

And I haven't even gotten to what's outside our doors, to all of nature that surrounds us with beauty and life. To the ground below us and the air above us, fighting balance on a grander scale so that we can continue to have things that we 'need'. It is a miracle that we still have a ground to walk on, but that is a lesson for another day. Suffice to say that earth's soul is much better at balance than we are, most times.

This dance of life is not always beautiful, even with all our luxuries. At times - at most times - in the history of our culture and even still now in many parts of the world, we do not survive our mistakes. If the arrow missed its mark, we went hungry. If we did not prepare for the winter, we did not see the spring. We live now in a world where we are given second chances every day. We can learn from our mistakes and veer back onto the path we were born to travel. We have the opportunity to survive setbacks and build our lives even higher than was possible before. We can find our strength, we can search for the beauty around us once again, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant.

But not always. That is another part of the Truth. The darkness that balances the light. As we grow irritated at being stuck in traffic because of an accident up ahead, do we stop to realize that there may be someone that won't reach home tonight? That another will remember this day with its flashing lights and twisted metal, with the flurry of doctors, with tears and broken hearts? With memories that now must replace flesh and blood...the painful yearning for a second chance that will never come?

If there's one thing I want to teach you, as a mother but more so as a fellow human, is to always reach for that light, no matter how far away it might seem. Look for it all around you each and every day, in little lighted moments, in a hug, in a phone call to a loved one, in a smile to the person behind the counter that is having a bad day. In a trip to the park to listen to the laughter of children and the smell of wildflowers. In watching a storm roll in with its combination of strength and gentleness. Be thankful for those that are out there protecting us on so many levels, even under the chance that they may not make it home to their own families. Don't squander the opportunities that you have, and cherish each moment in front of you with the vision of someone that appreciates all he has been afforded. Every day has light, and every day knows darkness. But the moon shines as a reminder that we always have something to look to.

Summer Storm

We all went out last night to watch and wait for the approaching storm, which looked a lot worse on the weather map than what finally got to us. But though I got most of it on video, here are a few pictures.








An impressively angry sky!


Postnote:

My stepbrother is on life support this morning after a near-fatal accident last night. Any prayers/energy/etc that you can send his way is appreciated. Please put them in the special miracle box. He needs every one of them...

Garden update...and more!

Brent in 96% humidity (Colorado readers - no comments please)

Baby birds that are trying leaving the nest today

BIG bullfrog under the pond bridge

Flowers

Cucumbers

Beans (from seeds - finally...)

Lettuce (from seeds)

Pea blossoms (from seeds)

Pepper

Sunflowers at dusk (from seeds)

Tomatoes

Watermelon (from seeds)

Zucchini

And not pictured, we have carrots, potatoes, squash, canteloupe. And grass. Lots and lots of grass. As seen in this overview:

Darkness

The thunderstorm was beautiful, wasn't it? Waiting for the breezes to grow stronger - catching the faint scent of the river and distant trees. I know you both love to sit right outside the door and watch as it approaches. And nature provides such lovely lessons on science and humility.

I'm sorry I scared you though. By the time the down draft had reached the end of the yard, branches were falling, trees were whining, and not knowing if the worst had gone by, I hurried you both inside with probably too much excitement in my voice. The lights flickered, and faded away for a few hours. We learned about how electricity is carried to the houses, and how there were brave people out there fixing them so that you could watch Spongebob again soon.

Bedtime came, and still no lights. Even with the tea candles on your dresser ("DO NOT touch those under ANY circumstance") and the flashlight by your bed in case you had to get up for anything, you were still so bewildered and out of sorts. "But WHY can't we watch TV? WHY can't you just turn the lights on?? Why can't I flush the toilet, mommy?"

We laid there, and I watched your head swim with thoughts. We talked about how life was 100 or more years ago, and how electricity wasn't always part of people's lives. This, I think, made things worse for you. But I was trying to teach, when I should have just told you even more times that you were safe, and I wouldn't let anything happen to you. You heard the words, but I watched your eyes as they started understanding the veil that we all take for granted.

I want to shield you from all the scary possibilities in the world, while at the same time I need to prepare you for all of them. Even the ones I can't comprehend myself.

But just as your eyes started becoming heavy, we heard a little pop, and the clock started blinking, and the nightlights overshadowed the tiny tea candles. Your grin lit up whatever darkness was left in the room, and we said a little thank you to the people that were out there fixing the wires and moving the branches from the roads. I covered you up once again and your smile was still shining even with your eyes closed, near to sleep. Everything was right in your world again - to the point where you forgot your procrastination routine of asking for one more snack, then one more drink, then one more hug, then one more 'cover me up', and so on. And I'm reminded once again of how much we need to appreciate what we have at times, instead of wanting even more. Perhaps that was the best lesson of the night, and one I didn't need to teach at all.