If Looks Could Kill ~

There is always that distance you are from me, where you seem more like a spirit
in the wind than a real-life creature of feathers maneuvering like an acrobatic ninja from one clematis bell shaped flower on to the next for an early breakfast this morning with me.  

I am honored.  I do wish you would stay awhile, but we all know you have little time to say hello and less time to say goodbye before off you go…

and where (does one ask?)

Well,

Only the heavens know, and they aren’t telling.

Why is it that this creature can jump start a cold heart into a roaring fire when it is sited?  What unseen tether binds this little soul to mine in a way that only friends may know?

What keeps me anticipating the reappearance of one hovering eye to eye even though year after year it never happens again? 

Perhaps it is a gentle reminder that we might never take even the smallest things for granted.

My garden is a weaving of warp threads, that which was already here, and waft threads, that which I added to create a tapestry uniquely me.  It changed the boredom of my life into happiness, even though it has been wrought with doubts, hopes, triumps, and failures, joy and sadness throughout its existence.  It still gives me pleasure.

While I tend to write using my feelings as far as nature is concerned, I do know it is not true nature.  It is my feelings.  Trying to survive on a planet out to kill you if you let down your guard is true nature.  Sometimes I write about it, but honestly, few ever really want to hear it.  La La Land seems to be preferred.

The ending of mommy's story 

and 

the beginning of my story -

Ms.Charlotte FeatherBender's 

Adventure in La La Land

Not a word, or it's curtains for you, fuzzie cheeks!

Mommy's at an impasse, in that her head can't agree as to what her fingers might type.  In contrast, mommy's been teaching daddy the concept of overwatering and he's becoming exceptionally good at it.

After I pointed out to mommy her only other option for a little time off was to pick daddy to finish her blog post, I got the job.  She did refuse to forego the proofreading, ergo forcing me into bad kitty mode.  The story shall be written.  I'll reprimand myself afterwards.

Mommy asked daddy about the asters and coneflowers that no longer seem to exist in the front garden bed under the windows she looks out of everyday.  Daddy's been weeding there, so he's not talking.

  

He put his foot into his mouth, shoe and all, the other day when mommy tried to stuff the words it's all about you back down his throat.  I didn't think that was humanly possible, but mommy proved me wrong.  You go, girl!

You might be thinking mommy and daddy have been married forever, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the banter keeps things lively for this feline during a boring afternoon, while Austin hids under a bed where he can't sit on my head.  A nice win for me.

Found this meter gadget in daddy's tool cabinet with a glass window on the front, collected probably before he met mommy, encrusted with rust... you know, all that stuff daddy meaninglessly stockpiles just in case it's ever needed.  I wonder if it works?

(shake, shake, shake)

What the...?

(shake, shake, shake)

Good Grief!

I'm beginning to talk like mommy.

(shake, shake, shake!)

I knew it!

Too much rust.

(shake, shake, shake, shake, shake)

Maybe a few more...

(shake, shake, shake)

YIKES!!!

Darn it, dropped it on the floor.

It's history now.

I dropped it into my water bowl to finish it off.

I wonder what else is in daddy's tool cabinet?

~ The Tool Cabinet ~

It stands impressively tall, too heavy for its wheels to be of much use.  It was an agreement between the two – not a necessity for him, but to her it was a way to organize a bit of the chaos that seemed to collect around him.

She wanted to purchase the largest of the brand, but the next one down was the more practical of the two.  She hated always being practical.  It was not her life as she had invisioned.

She brought seven tools into the marriage, as she purchased only when one was needed.  Lovingly used, they looked immaculate compared to his.  He brought in the old metal handled toolboxes, maybe nine in number, packed with rusty dulled edge tools that looked abused and worn out.

She wondered why he had tools.  He was not a handyman.

He filled ten drawers of their toolbox with his tools leaving her a small half size drawer for her tools, and a regular four-inch-deep drawer for purchases down the road to take care of the house and garden.

The largest of the drawers, the bottom one, carried so much weight in tools that the flat metal bulged under pressure and formed a gigantic bowl that scraped across the bottom of the cabinet when it was opened or closed.

Three handheld toolboxes full of tools remained cluttering up the garage.  She told him to get rid of them, so he stuffed even more into the bulging, overburdened tool cabinet before giving up the rest. 

She ignored it all.  He was so unchangeable.

He used her tools without asking, and put them back, not in her drawer, but his.  Sometimes she would hunt through his drawers to reclaim her tools, but the day came when she moved her tools into two drawers in the kitchen and never looked back.

I’m not sure the moral, if any, this poignant tale encompasses.   Perhaps this little saying says it all –

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it is about learning to dance in the rain.”

People!  We felines embrace life head on.  So does mommy.

I guess the heat put mommy in pooped out mode, as her first photo looks simply weedy.   Poor mommy.  I'll put my magical toes to work and see what I can do with it.

Crap!  Uh... right, people are reading this.  Drats!  Mommy left notes.  This beauty is Fatoua villosa, translates to densely hairy and is part of the Mulberry Tree family in Asia.  Well...la te da.  A weed is a weed.

Lovely Spicebush berries

An omnivore, in the front garden, hiding from carnivores.

Cottontail Rabbit

yummy yum!

Pesty Austin at his lovable best.

 Broadleaf Plantain (Plantago major)

Ekking out a living in the cracks.

Bumblebee feeding on the Joe Pye Weed.

Stunning against the orange edged violet leaf.

Maybe a Zabulon Skipper Butterfly

Chelone lyonii, Turtlehead 

Maybe a leaf from a Tulip Tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)

Lonicera sempervirens, Coral Honeysuckle

Mommy has it cut down every year,

so it doesn't grow up into the blackhaw viburnum

and drag the limbs down to the ground.

Tiny Spicebush Caterpillars

hiding for the day.

These caterpillars are very small, 

but they already have the two dots on their thorax

used to mimic a snake when larger.

Looks like appetizers rolled in a leaf

Mommy says I have that 

tired, 

disgusted, 

would rather be somewhere else look 

that could kill in a heartbeat.

Dang it.

She knows me so well.

I have no ending for this post,

as I live in the suburbs 

where dogs are loved 

and cats are hated.

I am never allowed outdoors.

  

I live in prison for my own protection.  

I'm returning to one of the cell blocks 

down the hallway to take a snooze.

Charlotte

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