🐈‍⬛Reflections on Passing The Baton & The True Cat

 

            Like many of us, I have known a lot of cats! I believe I loved every one of them, though my appreciation has developed over the years. We always had cats at home, but my old man, being essentially a farmer, didn’t have pets in the house, neither cat nor dog. It’s a different kind of relationship when the animal doesn’t live in the house with you at least part of the time.
            I didn’t know any better. My first dogs, but not Layla, lived out of doors, and so did the cats. That seems very strange now. Now, I think what’s the use of having a cat or a dog if you don’t actually live with the creature?
            So, who is the True Cat? I think that primarily he is the cat who takes a personal interest in his human friend. It seems like he is on an assignment of his own choosing. I guess it takes perception to see that interest in a cat. I know there are people who think that cats are all the same, aloof, and maybe unloving.
            We know differently, of course. Each one of the little fur bombs is totally on his own little trip. Examples abound. Sweetie will move over if I ask him to. Booker will not. Either he doesn’t want to, or he doesn’t know what I’m asking for. Sweetie stays awake to be with me, Booker sleeps a lot and I often don’t know where he is. Like that.
            I think that one might have several True Cats over the course of a life. I loved Henry, who lived before Willie and Suzy, and was a wonderful creature, fine and beautiful, but I didn't know about the True Cat yet.
            After I wrote about Julia telling Emmy the story of the True Cat, I began to wonder if I had such a cat, a cat who is my personal friend. At the time, Willie was with us, and he sure fit the description. If I looked up, he was there. Most usually he was looking at me. He was a little bossy. He knew when it was bedtime and would make sure I knew too. He was a fine watchcat too!
            Ah, it’s hard to explain. But I remember many a night, here at the desk, with him on the pull-out typewriter extension, and he would be holding my right wrist, eyes closed. I had never known an animal like him. I know he loved me, but I didn’t know why. It was an experience of a type of grace. Maybe some of these guys are messengers?
            Now that Sweetie, and Booker of course, are about 11 months old, it seems like the assignment has been passed to Sweetie.
            He is a well-named cat.

💙

Cherry & The Bear! 🤎

 

            She stopped. There was a strange little cry, repeating. She looked all around, but didn’t see anything. She looked up. Something was about 80 feet up a fir tree, that is by our lights, 80 feet. It was dark, and seemed furry.
            “What are you doing up there?” Cherry said. She didn’t get an answer, just more crying. It wasn’t exactly clear who was up there either.
            What could she do? Naturally, being Cherry, after all, she drifted up the tree trunk until she was near the creature. It turned out to be a bear cub. Not very old.
            “Why did you climb up here, Bear,” she said, kindly.
            The cub, who had been crying and hanging on, with his eyes closed, opened his teary little eyes and looked at her. He was so shocked that he almost lost his grip on the bark.
            He closed his eyes again, and turned his head away.
            “Can you talk?” she asked.
            There was more crying, and tree clinging.
            “I think you should talk. Would you try please, Bear?”
            “Mama!” he blurted suddenly.
            “That’s a good first word, Bear. Everybody wants their mama. Especially when up a tree! Do you have a name, or don’t bears have names? I don’t know because I’ve never talked with a bear before,” Cherry said.
            “What’s a name?” said the bear cub, actually looking at her curiously at this point.
            “The sound your mama makes when she is calling you, maybe,” said Cherry.
            “Oh. Wruff. That must be my name,” he said, actually smiling a little.
            “How would you like to climb back down, Wruff?”
            “I’m afraid!”
            “Why?”’         
            “I’m lost. I’m hungry. I figured I would have to die up here,” said Wruff. “And I saw a big scary creature like you.”
            Cherry laughed. “You probably saw my father. He is very big, but not scary.”
            “What if he picked me up and ate me?” said Wruff.
            “Don’t be silly! I can’t help you find your mama if you stay up here,” she pointed out.
            Wruff lowered himself down a few feet. “Do you know where my mama is?”
            “No. But I bet she is looking for you right now. I bet she won’t be hard to find, but you gotta come down. Your mama is too big to climb trees to go looking for you!”
            He dropped down a few more feet. Cherry stayed right with him. So, he wouldn’t be scared. They worked they way down, bit by bit.
            About the time Wruff and Cherry were head height, for a Squatch, they heard a lot of commotion in nearby bushes. It sounded like an enormous animal on four feet.
            “Wruff! Wruff! Wruff!” the approaching voice called out sternly.
            “Mama!” said the cub, who let go entirely, and fell to the ground.
            “Oh! Where did you find him?” she said when she saw Cherry bobbing gently in the air above Wruff.
            “He was up in this tree here. I heard him crying to I went up to see,” said Cherry.
            “Well! Thank you, Ralph’s Child! Maybe now he will learn not to wander when I sleep!” said the mama bear, as she marched her son away. Cherry could hear some of what she was telling her son as they went off to wherever bears go when they go.
            “I’m glad you found him,” said Maeve, from a branch overhead. “She wanted me to search from the air.”
            “I never talked to bears before, “said Cherry.
            “Well, now you have, Ralph’s Child!” said Maeve.
            So, little platinum blond Cherry, standing in a bit of snow, smiled up at the great black Raven, who gave her a little wink, and a Raven smile.

🖤🐦‍⬛🖤

It's As Simple As Keeping a Fire!

 

            Ranger Rick had been watching some guys chat on a certain podcast. The subject matter, as you can well imagine, was dear to his heart. Naturally it was the mysterious race of Forest Keepers, those who officially do not exist.
            The guys were talking about handprints, greasy big handprints, face prints even. Apparently, this waxy grease is powerful stuff. Once, applied to a vehicle or a window, it stays, resisting all attempts to remove it. And, it can etch a surface!
            Now, Rick had been familiar with a certain family, Ralph and family, for some time. In all of that time he had never seen any ominous white handprints. He couldn’t remember one, on the dumpster, or his truck, or Dexter’s old Honda. No camper had complained to him about strange waxy prints either. It was a mystery to Rick.
            He needed to talk to Ralph. Ralph would know.
            Rick, made a mental note and went on with his business. Eventually, Ralph would appear.
            And he did. It wasn’t a week later when Ralph poked his head into the office, and then slid all the way in, adjusting his size a bit.
            “Ah, just the man I want,” said Rick, as Ralph got settled in the big chair in front of Rick’s desk.
            “I’m all ears,” said Ralph, glancing toward the kitchen nook.
            “Hang on, coffee coming right up,” said Rick. Ralph smiled encouragement.
            “What’s up, Rick,” said Ralph, holding his coffee mug in both hands.
            “I have a question. As usual, it’s because of something I saw online. Two guys talking about you guys, with all attendant mysteriousness. The thing that stuck out to me was a lot of discussion of big white waxy handprints left by some of you guys on cars and such.
            “Why don’t you leave big white handprints on every thing you touch? What’s going on here?” said Rick. “I figured you must know!”
            Assuming sort of a professorial expression, Ralph said, “Well, I guess you know that many differing tribes of Forest Keepers exist. Some live primitively. Basically, they don’t have fire. It really kind of comes down to fire. The real backwoods types have developed this coating to stay warm and dry, instead of relying on fire and shelter.”
            “Why are you different?” said Rick. “Fire, you said? How did that happen?”
            “I’ll tell you that story in a minute. When I was a child, I was just as waxy as one of those backwoods types! So were my parents, brothers and sisters.
            “Ramona’s family were not like that. She came from a long line of Firekeepers. They were not greasy, because they had fire! It sounds funny, but it’s the only difference that I can think of,” said Ralph.
            “So, Ramona built fires, and you stopped being coated with wax? It was that simple?”
            “Not quite. For a while she had to clean me up!” laughed Ralph. “What a production!”
            “They say it’s hard to remove!” said Rick.
            “She was pretty determined,” said Ralph. “She used to boil down pigs to get the fat. After it cooled, she would set me down and massage it all over me, to loosen the wax. Then I had to wait a while for it to work. Then she scraped it off as well as she could.
            “Then she would dig up a pile of Soaproot. This was before she knew Thaga, so no soap! Anyhow, she used to pound it and mix it with water, make a bunch of lather, then completely cover me with it, and work it in good. It took all day, Rick.
            “Then we went swimming and the river took it all, soap, grease, wax, all of it away. Then when I was dry, she combed me.”
            “I think I kind of quit making that stuff in self-defense, and I didn’t need it anymore, since she made fire and cooked food By the time Twigg was born, I couldn’t have made a greasy handprint if I wanted to!” Ralph said.
            “Ralph, you’re not making this all up?” said Rick.
            “Now, Rick, have I ever lied to you?”
            “No. But it sounds like a Just So story, you know?” said Rick.
            “Hey, Mona made some nut balls, a lot like Hannah’s, but with what she had. They turned out really tasty! She said to tell Hannah thanks for the idea and the samples,” said Ralph. “Rick, I might have telescoped the truth a little, but we live in mythic times, don’t we, old buddy?
            “Ah, it works for me, Ralph. We’re the same. Both of us. Somebody had to start making fires, and everything that came after. Sometime, somewhere, there was a first time,” agreed Rick.
            “We need myth. It makes sense of the unknowable,” said Ralph. “Got another cup of coffee out there?”
            “Yeah, there are some Oreos too. Did you ever have an Oreo?”
            “Nope!”
            “They are the physical manifestation of an ad campaign, Ralph,” Rick laughed. “Sweet enough to knock your hat off.”
            “I’ll take my chances!” said Ralph. He didn’t have a hat anyhow.
            Then Ralph took his mythical big old self back to the Home Clearing, laughing as he slipped behind the dumpster.

💚☕💚

🍁October 18, 2026, One of Those Open Threads🍁

 

We come in peace!

Believe us, truly!

Ask anyone. Ask the crows, as if!

However, we wonder if you have about you

Something worthy! 

A bit, a bite, of this or that?

Oh, anything, surely!

Please be assured of our gratitude!

Gulls are the most honorable of birds!

💙

💚Take A Few Nuts, & A Few Berries, etc.! 💚

 T

            It all started, like these things so often do, when Ralph emerged from behind the station dumpster, which rather strategically obscures his private trailhead. He made sure he wasn’t going to change anyone’s life by meeting them suddenly in the parking lot. Crunching through some thawed and refrozen grubby snow, he slipped on over to the office door. He didn’t hear anyone he didn’t know already in there, so he opened the door, ducked and stepped in.
            “You rang!” he called out. No one was visible at the desk.
            “You smell my coffee, Ralph? Howzit going?” said Ranger Rick, emerging from the kitchen nook with two mugs of the hot brown stuff.
            “Nah, but now that you mention it, I’ll gladly drink a cup with you!”
            “Good, then I don’t have to drink both of these,” said Rick, kicking his chair out a little with a foot and settling down.
            Ralph’s especially broad chair was over in the corner. He fetched it and sat down opposite Rick. “No special occasion. I just felt like stretching the legs and looking around, and I thought we hadn’t had a sit-down in a while.”
            “Things are pretty quiet. Not many come when the snow starts. I’m going to close the campground for the winter one of these days,” said Rick.
            “Are Dexter and Hannah going to stay in the mobile all winter?” said Ralph.
            “Probably not, they’d be up to their buns in snow!”
            And just as if the mention summoned him, Dexter came through the door, steadied himself, and went to hang up his coat and earflap hat. On his way by the desk he lay down a foil wrapped platter.
            The other element that comes into this story is the fact that Hannah possessed a nice Cuisinart food processor. You will remember that she maintains a blog dedicated to the development of recipes.
            Sometimes she tries recipes she has seen elsewhere, just to see if they are for real.
            “Whatcha got there?” said Rick.
            “I can’t tell you what the recipe is called. They’re kind of nut balls, with dates or something. Hi, Ralph. Keeping warm?” said Dexter.
            “Howdy, Dexter. Those sound interesting,” said Ralph.
            Dexter peeled off the foil to reveal the nut balls. There they sat, about the size of golf balls, and quite dark in color. There were 14 of them. They looked sort of like chocolate, but lighter in color.
            “Check ‘em out. I haven’t even had one yet,” Dexter said as he vanished into the coffee pot area and came back with a mug.
            Conversation ceased for a while, being replaced by quiet munching. Each man ate three before speaking again.
            “They looked a little ominous, but are very good. She used walnuts, didn’t she?” said Rick.               Dexter agreed. He looked proud.
            “The recipe called for dates, but she had a bag of figs, so she used those, and the walnuts, some coconut oil, some other stuff, and cacao powder. That’s why they look almost like chocolate. They’re not cooked, she just made everything into a paste with her processor.”
            Ralph finished off his coffee, and said, “These taste like something Ramona would be interested in. I could eat them every day.”
            “Why don’t you take the rest home to her?” Dexter wrapped the 5 remaining in the foil and gave the packet to Ralph. “Hannah will be happy you guys liked them!”
            “Tell her thanks from me!” said Ralph. Then he said goodbye and he’d be back before spring, and laughed because it would likely be several times before spring.
            Outside, he glanced up toward the campground, didn’t see anybody, then he slipped back behind the big green dumpster, and hit the trail back to Ramona carrying the foil packet carefully in one big hand.         
            He carried it right down to Ramona, who was toasting her toes by her fire, and playing with Cherry’s hair. She was making little short braids in the blond curls just for fun. Cherry was beginning to present a rather branchy effect.
            “Wow, Cherry, you look great like that!” said Ralph when he saw what the girls were doing. “Hey, Mona! Hannah made these nut things and I thought you might want to taste them. Maybe you could do something like this!”
            “Interesting! Let me try one,” said Ramona, receiving the foil package from Ralph, who was grinning hopefully.
            So, Ramona tasted and approved the nut things. Cherry did too. Then Ramona got to thinking of how to make something like that without a food processor. It could be done, though it would take a deal of work.
            She had seen her mother pound nuts to a pulpy mass with a moderately long piece of wood in a wooden bowl. Ramona though her big pot would work for the bowl. She had a store of wild hazelnuts left over from fall, and dried blackberries.  She also had a little butter. But she didn’t have the chocolate-colored powder. Maybe she could get some from Thaga.
            While she was cracking a couple of pounds of hazelnuts, she whistled for Maeve and asked her to please go see if Thaga had some powder like that. Ramona wasn’t sure what to call it.
            “Be right back,” said Maeve when she had the situation explained to her.
            Ramona dumped the shelled nuts into her big pot, pounded them to bits with a longish piece of a dry branch, then added a good number of dried blackberries, a pinch of salt, and a lump of butter the size of an egg. Then she pounded the whole collection into a mass.
            When Maeve returned, she had a small paper bag in her beat. She gave it to Ramona and said, “Thaga called it cocoa powder. She said it’s quite bitter without something sweet to flavor it.”
            Ramona tasted the cocoa and agreed. So she put maybe about a cupful in her pot with everything else, but added some of her stash of honey to it so, then pounded some more.
            She tasted it, with Maeve and Cherry watching, and decided it was good.
            So, Ramona, assisted by Cherry rolled the pasty mixture up into balls. Ramona’s were round, and Cherry’s were kind of like eggs.
            They filled three of the wooden bowls with them. They looked a lot like the balls that Hannah had made and Dexter had sent with Ralph.
            “Hey, Baby!” said Ramona, after she was all done. “Would you like to taste these nut balls?”
            “Of course, Mona!” said he. So, Ralph sampled one of Ramona’s nut balls. Then he went back to one of Hannah’s and tasted it. They were both very good. He smiled at her, and said, “I like yours better, sweet Mona! They are wilder. The taste like the whole Great Forest, all wrapped up in a little ball, with some cocoa added to make them exotic!”
            Maeve tasted both, and agreed that Ramona’s tasted much more like the Forest.
            They all ate so many nut balls that they were quite full, and didn’t think about dinner until later. But Ramona went ahead and made some potato and onion soup anyhow, just to finish up the day nicely.

🌲🍁🌲

You Gotta Give It To The Cats

 

Sweetie, engaged.

For they live in the moment.
For their needs are few.
For they are not technologically inclined.
           
            I know that heretofore I have not discussed things with the Scouts much. Perhaps it’s time for a few questions. We shall see.
            “Booker?” I said one day, “What is best in life, so far anyhow?”
            “Exploration, naturally,” said he. “We’ve done the easel. Easy, peasy.”
            “What’s next?” I inquired.
            “Brother is interested in light fixtures with fan blades. He believes that they have potential,” he announced.
            “True,” said Sweetie, who had just entered the interview area near my desk. “However, for a few days I have been working on climbing straight up walls. It’s harder than it looks. There is some mysterious force that grabs me and pulls me back down!”
            “That force is our opponent,” said Booker, very seriously.
            “Well, kids, I have to tell you, we all deal with that force in one way or another. Usually, you end up just facing facts. It’s there,” I said.
            “Hey,” said Sweetie, “What’s outside of those doors? There are several rooms here. Is outside made of more rooms, or is it something different?”
            “Do you remember coming here when you were tiny?” I said. “Do you remember the car ride and how far we traveled to bring you here.”
            “I remember that cage mostly,” he said. “Where we outside then?”
            “Outside, but in a little travel cage, inside of a car,” I said. “Outside is very big. It is made of mostly open space, but with many rooms inside that open space.”
            “When I look out of windows I have many questions,” said Sweetie. “I see things that move through the air and make odd sounds, and my soul desires to catch them. Why is that, Mama?”
            “Those creatures are birds. It is your nature calling you. Nature calls all of us, for better or worse, dear love.” He looked at me then with the face of an angel.
            “You are beautiful, both of you,” I said.
            “What is beautiful?” said Booker, for he is the philosopher of the pair.
            “Ah, now there is a question. Both weighty and light. We know it when we see it, but have a very hard time describing it. Perhaps, it’s enough to say that beauty is pleasing to the eyes of the beholder.”
            “I like everything!” said Sweetie. “All of it. I really like the fridge!"
            “We don’t like the squirt bottle!” said Booker.
            “That’s just a little reminder to leave Suzy alone. Maybe if you stop sticking your noses down there and looking at her so much, she’ll come out more and not be such a baby,” I said. “I’ve never actually hit you with the water!” I laughed. “You guys sure jump!”
            “We can’t figure out what she’s doing down there,” said Sweetie.
            “Hiding from you, obviously,” said I.
            “So, what do you think about your toys?”
            “We like the wheel best. Then the long tube, next, that’s fun. The thing where you used to hide treats, is silly. Not very mysterious,” said Sweetie.
            “Really, the whole house is yours to play in,” I said. “Enjoy!”
            “Those little things that spin around under a cloth were pretty good for a while,” said Booker.

            "I noticed that their charm wore off. We'll have to see what else is available.
            “Well, I really appreciate what nice guys you two are, thank you!” I told them. “Just remember not to bug Suzy. OK?”
            “OK!” both said, just as seriously as you would expect. I know they mean well. They went off to climb the cat tree and stare out the back window.
            “Are they gone yet?”
            It was Suzy. She peeked out, looking both directions.
            “Nope, old girl. They’re still here. You’ll just have to deal with it!”
            And so, it goes.

Meow!

😻💙😺💙😸

Purrsday Greetings for October 15, 2026

             The photo is from a file called Leaving Tulalip. We were loading up for maybe the last time. This leaf fell on the old Honda we had at the time. It's a scan of an old print. Before that year, I had never touched a computer. There was no cell phone. Life was so very analog.
            It was the year 2000. We were moving to town, to have more room for daughter and grandchildren to live with us. It was leaving one world for another.

            Sometime around 2001, my son gave me an old Win 98 box and my husband hooked me up to the internet. My eldest daughter thought that was cute, and that I might write some emails.

            Thereafter was the same course so many people have taken, leaving the old way.  But, I'm still me and I know what I know. I had never written a story, just some bits of free verse.

            I hope that your day is everything you could hope for!

🍁💚🍁