Alas, in a world smitten with chaos and sorrow, how sublime the last of May’s Saturdays can be!
The world’s timepiece stops for the weekend. The clouds waft in the heavens. And in the woods, the pusses frolic with the winged daredevils, who taunt them with their airborne shenanigans.
Of course, the squirrels of Marklewood are simply “less gifted” and yet unaware of their disadvantage and fate. Then again, there is rarely a feline “underdog” to be found anywhere in these piney hinterlands, if indeed such a mythical character exists! Before such tailed rodents threw their first aim at Yorick, they were doomed to failure. That enterprising marmalade puss has considered taking his collection of squirrel tails and creating a smaller version of the Daniel Boone and Davey Crockett coonskin hats. The savvy and dignified Kitty Carlisle has suggested that they put them on consignment at Dollywood along with decorative plastic tubs filled with Henry’s favorite, but eclectic, roasted chicken salad.
That, my friends, is a sign of restored equilibrium here in the hinterlands. At least such is likely when the sun glistens so and time stands still.
Jon is eating dinner, albeit like a reluctant field mouse … drifting off into dreambits and feigning a listen to NPR. Every hour or so, he checks on the tiny abandoned kittens that he seems to have adopted: Karen Black and Delores Gray. Naturally, one is black; the other, solid steel gray.
I , however, smile and remember what life was like before, confident that it will return in an even grander form!
(Image by Lizbeth Zwerger.)