SPENCER's RAINY DAY

                           Storm coming. Into the greenhouse.     Must have eaten too many snacks. Squeeze.

 Spencer's hideaway. Ahhh. Dry.

 
  From the greenhouse Spencer sees the Jays.   One has the best foot grab ever......

But it's cold  outside. He stays inside . Watching the jays.

                                                         Fog and mist in the forest.

                                                  Sky changes.Storm pauses.
"Birds sing after a storm, why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever."
                                               (Rose Kennedy 1890-1995)

                                             Mountain range. First snow. Spencer shivers.

              A  terribly misty, rainy day.   Spencer can feel the damp through his paws. He can see Mt. Washington  from the greenhouse. First snow.

              Sog of a bog of a day.                                             Sky changes again. Ever hopeful.
"Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all. " (Emily Dickinson) 1820-1886)

                Clearing.     Fogging up the window. Smokey stares.Willing Spencer to come out and play.

                             Outside again. Spencer poofs out his fur to warm himself.
  "Cats have very sad face. They look at you a long time and think about you. They are peaceful to have around." (Anon.)
                                                       And then the rain begins again.

STELLER SKREEKA!

    The Jays are back. Peanut loving  Steller Jays. British Columbia's provincial bird. Named after Georg Willhelm Steller who  was the first European to find them in 1741. (Cyanocitta stelleri) Say THAT five times fast. Gorgeous birds. They like the forests. .But they like open spaces even better.

 They go in packs. Usually in groups up to 10. Sassy and bossy.

They torment  neighbourhood cats. But Cordelia seems immune.She's far too pretty to be worried.

They stuff themselves with raw peanuts. They hide them. They forget about where they hid them. Then they want more......

                          

 They hack at the shell, swallowing  peanuts whole.They have this call that sounds  like a rusty old handle: "SHACK! Skeck, skeck, skeck.....". Or like a cat horking up a hair ball. I can't decide which.....

But  when they see the cats it sounds more like :" SKREEKA! SKREEKA! SKREEKA!" Deafening. Smokey and Spencer can't quite figure them out. Steller Jays can be found anywhere from Alaska to Nicaragua, eating everyting they see; they're omnivores. Especially sunflower seeds and peanuts.Sometimes lizards, or snakes.Sometimes just peanuts.

  Big scavengers.  Especially of human sites. Smart. They keep the cats guessing.
"What nature delivers to us is never stale. Because what nature creates has eternity in it."
                                      (Isaac Bashevis Singer)

 Really good at being bird call mimics. Especially of hawks, and osprey. They are so good, apparently, that other birds will go into hiding. Leaves more peanuts and sunflower seeds for them. The female will then rattle her calls, and the male will answer with a less manly "Gleep! Gleep! Gleep!" Then it's time to descend on the seed trays and gobble gobble........Brilliant technique. Then it's time to put out more peanuts. And watch it all over again.
                          

THE WIND and STARS

 THE WIND SAND and STARS (excerpts) (by  Antoine de Saint Exupery 1900-1944. French writer, who also wrote "The Little Prince", Distinguished  aviator. Died on a mission over the Mediterranean during WWII)

 "The face of the sea is as variable as that of the earth. To passengers, the storm is invisible. Seen from a great height, the waves have no relief and the packets of fog have no movement.

 The sea is like a splintered mirror. These colours of earth and sky, these traces of wind over the face of the sea, these clouds  tell of the quality of the night to come.

 The threat of frost, a promise of rain, so all that happens in the sky signals to the pilot the oncoming snow, the expectancy of fog, or the peace of a blessed night.

 The hours during which one flies over this mirror are hours in which there is no assurance of the possession of anything in the world.

 Dawn and twilight become events of consequence.

 Alone before the vast tribunal of the tempestuous sky, the pilot defends his mails and debates on terms of equality with those of three elemental divinites.

 The surface of the sea appears to be covered with great white motionless palm trees.

 Palm trees marked with ribs and seams stiff in a  sort of frost.

 The hydoplane pilot knows there is no landing here.

 The face of the sea is as variable as that of the earth.

Well not be worth the embrace of man and storm.

 Look to the clouds they tell of the direction of the wind or the progress of the storm, and the quality of the night to come."
                                                           

WHILE the CHICKENS Cluck....

  Thursday morning.  Smarter-than-your-average-cat Spencer came calling. Must be Snack time. Then he was off to visit the chickens next door. The neighbours acquired chickens that clucked softly like flannel shoes, and hollered bawk bawk bawk like geese. Great amusement for any visiting cat....

  This Thursday it was rainy. The last rose of summer  bravely stood through it all. It was squooshy and gooshy. Through the rain I could still hear the chickens next door.....cluck, bawk, rowrrrr ( must be a cat).....

 The sog and bog held off  for a brief moment. Enough to air the working panel of a civil war Christmas table quilt, under the watchful eyes of Smokey and Spencer.  They had been to see the chickens.

 Now it was time to  catch some  rays of grey.
                              Grey skies overhead. And chickens next door going bawk, bawk, bawk, bawk. Must be another cat staring at them from the fence.

  I stitched another  quilt panel called Windmill, watched  it twirl around  in pattern.Through the open window, I could hear those chickens squabble and cluck, then came a yeowwwww, with a flash of gold and grey ripping through the yard. Must be big chickens. Able to take care of themselves.

Put together  yet another panel with sequins and holly corners. Christmas fa -la -la -la  la. On a roll these days. I'm running out of thread. Will have to go buy more soon. Meanwhile, Spencer stood guard in the green and bog of outdoors. Playing hide and go seek-those-chickens, with his brother . Smokey  crept to the fence and stood on it , looking down at the chickens in their pen. Cluck , Cluck, buck, buck......
             
  I finally got around to the last panel of coral and gold. Ready for Christmas. Much done, on a Thursday, while the rain rolled in , the wind blew wild, and  the cats did smack their lips at the chickens who clucked and bawked  in their house that the neighbours built.....