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It is amazing to me that my last blog was back in April. Although not that amazing, when I think of how busy we were on the flower farm this past season. On top of all the weddings we provided and designed flowers for, our herbal body products really took off. So we were either in the field or kitchen all season long, planting, designing and creating--which I believe we do every day in our minds, manifesting our futures, our destinies. This picture was sent to me recently from a dear friend, and it reminded me that there were two constants in my life as a child: flowers and cats. It seems in all my childhood pictures I am either holding a bouquet of flowers or a cat or two or three. So here I am, now, in my adulthood, living on a flower farm with six (two foster) cats. They say the mind is a dangerous thing. But I say it's a magical thing if we take the time to nurture it properly, pushing out the darkness and letting in the light. This year I am ready for travel, a little more adventure beyond the farm. So please stay tuned. And peace and joy to you all.
It is that time of year to cover the flower beds, to put them to rest under a warm blanket of straw, which our black kitty Neil thinks is just for him. W call Neil "the butler" as he is always in the driveway, waiting to park your car, then greet you and give you the garden tour. He is also known as "walky talky," as he is our most vocal cat with a perfect "meeeeow."
You can see who's claimed my latest treasure--twenty-five bucks from an antique store here in Galena. It's not sturdy enough for most humans, but will do just fine for my felines. . .
Let me introduce you to Jonathon J.J. Sebastian Cabot Kitty (aka The Fud, short for Fuzzy Wuzzy, which turned into Fudda Wudda). Two years ago it had been five years since Don and I lost our last orange cat, and I was thinking it was time for an orange kitten, much to Don's dissent, as we already had three cats. But I kept seeing this orange kitten in my mind and looked on-line at all the little orange cuties, though I was having no luck in convincing Don. But then I went to my grandmother's farm in Pennsylvania for a week that summer, and the first thing I saw when I walked in the door was this little orange fuzzball on her back deck. "One of the male strays found him in the woods and brought him up here for food," my grandmother said. "I call him Pee Wee," she said. "He needs a good home." Done. It didn't take long for Don to fall in love with him, or my other cats. He is the sweetest soul, with a trill for a purr (characteristic of a Maine Coon). And a peacemaker--he will go right in between my two males who have no love for each other and say in his gentle way, "Come on guys, fighting won't solve anything." In short, he was just what we all needed. And I have to believe that just the right literary agent will come along soon. Nothing, really, ever comes out of the blue. Prepare the soil, plant the seed, then water and fertilize what will be.
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