He's Got Rhythm

Smoky dances with the stars.

New Times in an Old Place

Once, as my brother told his story of a summer camp summer hiking trip many years ago, an old man came wandering up to our campfire in the woods. He sat down and told us stories, played his guitar and sang songs with us.

He left as quietly as he came.

He was Carl Sandburg whose Flat Rock farm, Connemara, was famous for him and for his wife's goats. 

My brother's daughter and family visited the farm the day after Thanksgiving, where the children made friends with the chickens, goats, and cat.

 I don't think they even noticed the bluebirds.

I couldn't help feeling nostalgic for a place I myself knew many years ago from many camp summers nearby, for singing around a campfire, and for a meeting with a man I knew only through his words and voice.

Generosity

My niece welcomed all to the Thanksgiving table: her family, his family, and the family cat.

She knows a good thing when she sees it.

Anticipation

I love driving. By myself.

No music or loud music. My choice.

I especially love driving on back roads, winding along back roads, moving through beautiful scenery, mountains and vistas.

But mostly I love driving to people I want to see.

It's good to go to family at Thanksgiving.

Balm in America

Tonight, imagine lavender and red, white, and blue.

Lake Cheston ABCedarian: T

T is for Thanksgiving Tableaux

(large and small)

Not As Innocent As They Look

I live with sister cats whose looks are deceiving.

Yes, Doodlebug is all sweet and adorable when wakened from her nap, cuddled into her little bed.

But.

That is not the whole story.

Now imagine her jumping from the floor onto my back and holding on with her claws. Yes, this is another Doodle, the flip-side of cuddly, even though she makes that leap to purr and climb up onto my shoulders.

Those claws can do damage.

Yes, B(ad)a(ss)c(at) [pronounced Bassy] looks all sweet and adorable when wakened from her nap, comfortably lodged on her window chair.

But.

That is not the whole story.

Now imagine her ripping my expensive terrycloth robe from the hanger on the back of my bedroom door, closing said door, and spending much of the evening shredding it into pieces just for the sake of sensory pleasure, purring all the while.

Those claws can do damage.

Beware: these cats are not as innocent as they look.