Drama, country style

Thursday, 10:00PM

Molly and I set off for our field walk around 7 and down by the old orchard I realized that Peep was coming with us, fifty feet behind. Molly playfully chased her into the old, old orchard, which is a MESS of tangled vines and weeds. So far as I know, Peep is in there still. While Molly was frolicking with Peep, she disturbed a fawn with just traces of spots left on its back and it burst out down into the fourth field (out of sight from the house). Molly thrashed around in the brush for a few seconds and then burst out in hot pursuit and chased down well into (and beyond, I think) the fifth field. Our great recall is off the table when there's a deer in the picture. She came back all smiley and pleased with herself. When we passed the orchard again, Peep and I yelled to each other, she sounding pouty, but she wouldn't come out. Molly thought since she'd had such a good time mining for deer there, she'd give it another try, and BY GOLLY, didn't she get another fawn out of there. The thing came out and almost turned toward me but went across the path to where the old barn collapsed. Molly reappeared and went completely in the wrong direction, but retraced her path. So Molly got to chase not one, but TWO deer tonight.

An hour later, we went down to see if Peep would come out, but she would only call. I'm worried, but the brush is too thick and I can't get in to her. 

Oh. And on our attempt at cat retrieval, Molly found a nest of baby birds a foot and a half off the ground and ate them. It's been a great night for Molly....

I'm hoping to wake up to a Peep cat on my doorstep. If that doesn't happen, we'll be out for an early walk!



Friday, 7:00AM
I was awake at 3, up at 4 making supper to get it cooked before the heat of the day, in the back yard calling and calling for Peep at 4:30. I planned to hold the resumption of the Peep search until the supper was out of the oven, and was sitting on the screen porch when Molly came scampering in from the front yard (the front door was open to let in the early morning cool). I thought she was just coming in to say hello, but when I got up to get her breakfast, there was Peep lounging on the floor. I was so relieved and happy! and rushed to make sure she had kibble and fresh water. 

I wanted to get Molly's morning walk out of the way early while it was still cool, so we set off and behind us, here comes Peep once again. She caught up and stayed on a course parallel to Molly, but forty feet to the east. When we all reached the thickety part, Peep apparently said, "Chase me!" and Molly did. Peep went up a silver maple tree (lots of winding, twisting limbs) and cried for attention. "Watch me! Watch me!" I stood below and observed her performance, as she pranced back and forth on narrowing limbs, chewing off small twigs, frequently casting glowing golden eyes at me to make sure I was appreciating her skill. When she leapt five feet from one limb to another, thirty feet above the ground, I had to leave. I didn't want to encourage her daredevil showing off. I headed back for the house. I looked back and there was Molly sitting and watching her kitty sis. They both reappeared about the same time. Peep is happily and staidly playing with her little bell-balls now, looking at me as if to question why I would worry about her since she is so expert at taking care of her small self.

Gawd.

Miscellaneous thoughts

The 7/6/2013 Quote of the day was Thor Heyerdahl's, "For every minute, the future is becoming the past."
I remember having that thought when I was very young. Even to think "Now!" takes a second that will never come back. When people finish something unpleasant and say, "Well, there's an hour of my life I'll never get back!" I know exactly what they mean.

I have a book on my shelf called, "Living Through Breast Cancer." Every single time I catch it out of the corner of my eye, I think "Better Living Through Breast Cancer," and smile to myself at the silliness of the thought.

For me, lying on the grass with my dog is like yoga. I feel my spine click around, feel my shoulder and neck muscles relax... I become aware that my skin is an organ of my body, and I pay attention to its messages. All that is among the reasons I like warm weather. It isn't as much fun lying on crusty snow with an icy wind blowing over me. I have tried it and I know.

I read the other day that everybody in Europe is genetically related to every other European, as close as cousins. I can't now find the article but it didn't surprise me. It's about the same as the village I work for: if you start counting through people you know, you'll shortly come to a relative of the person you're speaking to. Europe's the same way, just bigger. It's a "six degrees from Kevin Bacon" thing. We are all related. Depending on one's feeling for Family, that's either good or bad.

Perfectionists learn to take time to do a thing properly. I always used to think I was a perfectionist because I was always frustrated with my mistakes. I have, however, always hurried through chores because I wanted to get to the "sitting and reading" part of my life. Morning job and observing Morning Boss have begun to teach me that it's all right to take a little more time to make sure I'm on the right course.  Removes a lot of the tension from any task.

I wish I liked myself better. I have accused so many people of thinking I'm not good enough, when, really, it is I who has no use for myself. (Should that be "I who have no use...?") 

The really good thing about mowing the lawn on the tractor is that I'm creating my own breeze while I'm accomplishing something that needs to be done.

The danger of celebrity

Husband happened upon this pose a few mornings ago.

I fear that Peep is in danger of believing her own press.

Happy Independence Day

I was looking for some pretty-colored fireworks to put in here, but then I kept thinking about how, when the Revolutionary War re-enactments are going on down at the old fort in the village, every time I hear the whump of a gun or a cannon, it is a remembrance of war. And, really . . . haven't we had enough of that by now?

So instead of lauding the rockets' red glare and the bombs bursting in air, I'm going to celebrate that I was lucky enough to be born in this country, have always had enough clean water, enough to eat, a place to live, more than enough clothing, the luxury and joy of pets and private transportation and the freedom to live with one other person in the middle of forty-eight acres of hay fields that belong to us. 
More or less. 
If you don't count having to pay the bank and the taxes.

Around 9:30 tonight, we will sit on the back lawn and watch the tippy tops of the fireworks from the park in the village. Molly will cool her belly on the dewy grass, I'll stretch out completely flat and feel at one with the earth. Peep will come and go and wonder why we are all out in the open like that in the dark, and not jumping on tiny bugs in the grass.

I'll celebrate the fact that tonight when it gets dark, my fireworks will be at the ends of little magical bugs that fly over the tops of the grass . . . and fly, sometimes, far, far up into the sky. I wonder if, every now and then, one of them spies the stars and is drawn that way. 
Who is to say it isn't true?