ONCE UPON A TIME.........

 ONCE UPON A TIME...........

 

Once upon a time it was a snowy day. The kind of day that you dream about. The kind of day that wintering birds like junkos, chickadees, towhees, finches, grackles, flickers and varied thrushes  do not dream about. It means hanging on to twigs for dear life.

 

It means sharing . Twigs. Covered in snow. It means finding seeds. Suet. And not sharing.

 

Perched high on her hill, sits White Cat. Watching. Waiting. Seeing all. Ohhhhh, it is good to be a cat.

 

Grackles cuddle with each other. Cold. Still fat from suet. A nice morsel for White Cat.

 

Grackles know when they have it so good.Branches. Suet swinging invitingly.

 

The others watch. Snow is deeper now.

 

                                    Swing Grackle. Swing in the Snow.

 

           White Cat  is a very clever little white cat. She leaves her warm home, toddles down to our yard where she promptly hops inside the greenhouse.

 

One or two windows are always left open so it will not get too “spongy” inside. White Cat knows that if she sits on the windowsill she can eye the birds to her heart content. Methinks the birds eye her, as well.

 

The snow is wet and sticky. Sticks to branches and twigs, crystals hanging …..beyond the forest is swathed in mist, snow lingering on thick pine branches.

 

Crows and eagles mix in the treetops. Weather is changing. Birds sit and wait.

 

                          And something else howls in the forest…..

Meanwhile, little White Cat decides it is time to find some of those lovely chirping fuzz balls, of which she is so fond. Unfortunately, the minute she plops herself down in her usual place, under the rhodos, the place is suddenly empty. Birds. Gone. While, little White Cat waits. Patiently. Like a ball of snow.

     And something, again, howls in the forest…..

   

In the gold of the Leaves

 Gold eyes, peering out from gold leaves. White Cat is on the hunt, prowling for little birds that flock to my back garden to feed. The grapes are just about ready.......all 6 bunches......not a lot this year.

 She sees birds.....but they foil her most often than not.  The leaves are changing rapidly these days, and the wind is colder, and the weather wetter. White Cat is damp from the leaves, but she still purrs .

The Weeping Katura tree  changes along with the rest........the birds still find sanctuary...

Sweet Pea Jungle with Little Black and White Cat

 To think that this year, I believed that there would not be any sweet peas. It was such a cold spring and nothing sprouted till late. Took these on the last Monday in August and was surprised by the veritable jungle that has exploded over the front pathway. Never have I had sweet peas last so long and be so hardy, or roses, for that matter. And without even trying.

his is little Black and White cat. Have no idea of his name. He lives down the block, an outdoor cat in all weather. Kind of wonder if his people look after him at all. But he's been brushed lately, is very sweet and gets treats from everyone around here. Happy cat. Follows me around garden, flopping, whenever he gets the chance.

Oh, to  be this happy.Rolling around on hot pavement....sounds glorious.

 Front path, roses  buried from sight. Can't even see the earth under the sweet peas. This is my idea of gardening...a florific profusion pulsating madly.

 Never planted the sunflowers........they sprung from bird seed, left from the winter. Each one of them a surprise.

                      Peace roses peering fearfully out from underneath the sweet pea brush.

 And Little Black and White Cat, ever constant, plops down on the path, just where I was picking.

 Roses, sunflowers, Lavatura, Sweet Peas all clamouring in silent chorus.  If I could hear them, I am sure they would be saying "weed me..."

                                                                    Nice life...........

At leastLitt Black and White Cat found his way up the stairs. Others may not be so lucky.....have no intention of cutting back on the sweet peas....they shall continue to drape themselves  languigly over the cement, until they and the others bloom no more.