Wanna Take A Ride?

 

          It was just another night. Jim had a lot on his mind. None of it was making him feel any warm fuzzies. He felt like a virus was winning the battle in his respiratory system too. He had a little bit of a fever and he thought maybe his lunch, which he ate at midnight, wasn’t sitting very well. Memo’s was open all night selling fast and iffy Mexican food out of a side window. Well, they were open, so that was he had his late night lunch break. Two pork tamales, and rice. One apple flavored bottle of Mexican pop.
            In this small city there weren’t too many late night fares. Like every other night, Jim was thinking that there had to be a better way to make a living wage, and maybe not sleep away the daylight hours.
            Since he spent so much time alone in his newish Taurus, Jim had become a sky watcher. He wished that there were more clear nights. He had become interested in stars and planets. Even on clear nights there was a lot of light pollution from town.
            He tried to learn something new every night, so he had his laptop in the front seat with him. It kept him fairly content. He enjoyed space and science web sites the most, with some YouTube thrown in.
            There was one all-night coffee stand on 41^st, so he rolled over there and bought a 24 oz. 5 shot Americano to keep him company. The barrista was a middle aged lady who had the late shift too. He was a regular, and they chatted about nothing much for a couple of minutes while she prepared his drink. He always tipped her two bucks. Linda was her name.
            People who drive for a living, often have little bits of home in their vehicle. Jim did too. A Barbie, all beat up from years of service, in the glove box. Some shiny stickers his daughter had decorated the inside of his car with were still there, catching the light once in a while. Stars, again. She was a grown girl now, stars or no stars.
            Jim had a place he liked to park, while he hung out waiting for texts from dispatch. It was a little strip park on an elevated area where he could see out over the bay. He had been known to doze off a little parked there by himself in the early hours.
            But tonight was election night and he wasn’t sleepy. He was mighty antsy. He felt like the poem said, that the center wasn’t holding. Everything was up in the air.
            As Jim watched, out beyond the piers, where the water was deep, he began to see something which he had never seen out there before. There was a disturbance in the middle of the bay. He saw an area of yellowish light glowing under the surface. It started quite faint, but got brighter and more defined as whatever was lit by that glow rose up through the water. It broke the surface.
It had to be a vehicle of some sort. Resting on the water for a moment, it was dark, very dark, with just a ring of light on the outside of its apparent round shape. He couldn’t see for sure but it seemed to be flattened, and round. Then it rose silently into the air, maybe a hundred feet up over the water.
            Silently, it approached the park where Jim waited and watched, not knowing what to think.
Incredibly, it settled down on the grassy area in front of the parking strip, between the old trees that had been there for over a hundred years. The ring of light around the craft dimmed down to a dull orange glow. It was larger than he had initially thought, maybe a hundred feet in diameter. There was a slight odor to it, now that it was close. He had been smoking with his window open. It was like ozone and something additional.
            Just like in all the movies, a hatch opened above the lighted ring, and someone hopped out onto the grass. This person, for it was a person of sorts, slowly walked up to Jim’s Taurus. As the person approached Jim felt a sense of excitement and affection grow in his heart. He didn’t understand this at all, but he wasn’t afraid either. It was like a download of peace.
            Jim stepped out of his car, to meet the newcomer.
When the pilot got close, Jim could see that he was definitely humanoid, maybe five feet tall. He wasn’t clothed as far as Jim could tell, but he was covered in short blond hair or fur, about like a cat’s pelt. If anything, this character looked kawai as heck, cute. Jim’s daughter would have thought he was cute!

            He had yellow eyes, and he was smiling. When he opened his mouth and spoke, he spoke in English and he sounded like a beloved old voice from night time radio.
            “Wanna take a ride?” he said, using Art’s voice and inflection perfectly. He smiled at the effect this had on Jim, who was rather gobsmacked, having been a faithful listener to Coast to Coast back when it was good.
            “Look, you can call me Art if you like. My native name would be a tongue twister for you! I learned to speak your language from eavesdropping on Earth media.
            “We’re here because you called us here, in a way. Desires of the heart and so on. I’m offering you a one time opportunity. If you want, you can come with us. I know you love the stars, I can read it all over you, Jim.”
            The smaller figure looked at him more soberly then, just waiting while Jim considered the offer.
            Jim stood there, in the little park in a small American city. He looked out into the dark sky and as he looked, the stars seemed to call to him. They burned more brightly than he had seen before in this cloudy place. Thoughts of all he had known and loved passed through his mind.
            The call was very strong.
“You don’t need to bring a thing, Jim,” said little Art.

            In the morning the city impounded Jim's Taurus, unlocked, wide open, with all his belongings, including his phone, wallet and keys still inside it.
It was a total mystery.

Well, See It's Like This...

        So, I took a whack at drawing Ralph. 

        Here's what I came up with through several stages. I will continue, on a different sheet of course.

        To my eyes, he came out a little faun-ish. But I don't think that's a terrible way to see him.

        It's very  easy to overwork these things. He got more bearded.

I guess I'll just be brave and post him.

        

With some ink.

           

        

In Thanksgiving

 🤍

A favorite photo.

Mary Ruth Olson/Jettie G.

        What a treat it was to know her! She was so very full of life, and fun. But of course that’s not all. She was a serious woman when it was called for. She was aware of the world as it is, and she did her bit to combat the madness. But it never tarnished her happy spirit.
        I met Jettie, of course, on MOTUS. Even knowing her name, I can’t help but think of her as Jettie, the name she chose to express herself. In our very first interaction, since I was a noobie there, she hit me with one of her patented challenges. I was intrigued. So the “battle” was joined and I jumped in. We had a lot of fun tossing screw balls at each other. She could take it, and she could dish it out in style.
        I don’t know her whole history. I know that she came from Alberta, Canada. But she didn’t stay there. She worked in Asia, and goodness knows where else. I heard something about New York City also. I know she spent time in Thailand, she often described her little hut style house there. She mentioned the Buddhist monks who were her friends. I believe she mentioned teaching English in a Japanese school.
        She loved animals, specifically dogs, to the point of commonly referring to cats as “furmops!” Of course, she didn’t really disparage them seriously. In fact, she referred to herself as a Blue Dog! We all know the picture.
        She was nuts for the Iditarod sled race every year, and always reported on its progress.
        She hosted birds and squirrels on her deck at home. She gave them names and kept track of them.
        She sent many of us numerous cards and small gifts. I have every one she sent me.
        I don’t believe that she had a dishonest cell in her body. What you saw is what you got from Jettie. She told it like she saw it, always.
        She loved and took care of Kubla for many years. He was blessed to have her.
        MOTUS herself wrote a lovely tribute to Jettie over on her blog. Many people added their heartfelt appreciations of our friend.
        I just want to take this moment to thank the Almighty God for the time we spent together online and in spiritual communion.

        To know her is to love her. I know that she abides.

🤍

Maeve Has A Story To Tell

 

🌲🤍🌲

The Gossip Monger

            Maeve was doing that thing she does when she wants attention again. It’s rather undignified for a bird of her age. While the snow filtered down through the trees and the forest had that hushed sound that happens during snowfall, she was hanging upside down on a low branch.             In her mind it was such a compelling sight to see a large Raven upside down that it should demand attention.
            Nobody was around though, so she started making that knocking sound Ravens make. The snow muffled it though. It wasn’t working.
            At last Ramona came out to build up the fire. A good sign. Finally the day was beginning.
            “Guess what I know,” said Maeve, from her reversed perch.
            “Well, since you say you know everything, it’s hard to guess,” said Ramona to the needy bird.
            “I heard something you might not believe,” said Maeve.
            “Well, I can tell one thing for sure, you’re dying to spread the news, Maeve!”
            During this interchange Ralph appeared, yawning and checking out the morning. Maeve flew to his shoulder, as was her custom.
            “I know something you don’t know,” she announced.
            “That’s hard to imagine,” Ralph teased. “Oh, what could it be?”
            “Maybe I just won’t tell you then,” said Maeve.
            “You can tell me, Maeve. I won’t spread it around. Ramona isn’t even listening!”
            Just then Twigg appeared with Berry and Bob.
            “Hey, Maeve!” said Twigg. “Why don’t you ever sit on my shoulder?”
            She was getting a little desperate by this point. No one seemed to be taking her seriously at all. Everybody was acting as if nothing special was going on.
            “M’naouu!” said Berry.
            “Mrrt!” said Bob, because he didn’t always talk, only when he wanted to.
            Ramona had been making fish soup for breakfast because it’s quick and nice to have something hot on a snowy day in the great forest.
            “Maeve, would you like some soup?” asked Ramona, holding up one of those wooden bowls Ooog had made a while back.
            “Yes! Yes! But, oh my beak and feathers, why will no one listen to me?” pleaded Maeve.
            Finally, soup bowl in hand, Ralph said, “aw, it’s okay Ma Bird, what’s the big story today? There’s always a story. Right? Tell us all together!”
            Just then, little Cherry drifted out to join the breakfast party, and have a little soup too.
            “Yes,” said Maeve. “There is always a story. This one is about you Ralph and Ramona and Twigg and Cherry too. A bird who knows these things told me early today, before the sun came up, that you are all characters in a book.”
            “I think that bird was pulling your tail feathers, Maeve,” chuckled Ralph. “Why don’t you have some of this nice soup? That was surely just a story!”
            “Do you think so?” wondered Maeve, with her head tilted to the side, studying him up close.
            “Well, OK then. I should have known better than to believe that bit of gossip. You’re usually right, Ralph,”said Maeve at last, because she always believed Ralph, and he was almost always right!

A Prospective Introduction To Ralph's Book

 

    I wonder if you patient and helpful guys would take a look at this bit of text and tell me if it seems like an adequate introduction to The Book of Ralph?

    Is there anything else that should be there?  Is there anything there that shouldn't be there?

*0*

Introduction

Possibly a word of explanation is in order. After all, the subject of our story is a most unusual character.

To start at the beginning, his birth was a process of evolution, that started with some blog posts. At that beginning point Ralph himself was presented as very near the common perception of Sasquatch in the Pacific Northwest. But, he couldn’t stay there. He wandered off. Not away from the PNW, but away from how he is usually presented, as fearsome and irrational.

A world grew up around him and his friends and family in the great forest. A world apart, full of oddities and homely virtues.

Over the months, with each new chapter or vignette, his personality developed into the fine fellow you will meet in these pages.

By the end of the series, you will know his wife, Ramona, his children, Twigg and Cherry, and his many friends and co-inhabitants in the wonderful world inside the Mt. Baker Snoqualmie National Forest.

 

November Has Arrived!

 

 Every year when November rolls around I think of this little poem.  I believe he meant it humorously!

🍁🤍🍂 November by Thomas Hood  No sun — no moon! No morn — no noon — No dawn — no dusk — no proper time of day. No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease, No comfortable feel in any member — No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds! — November! Thomas Hood (1799 - 1845) was a poet, publisher, editor, and humorist. The son of a bookseller, he was born in London and lived there for most of his life, with stints in Scotland and Belgium. Well known for his puns and comic verse, Thomas also composed poems that drew attention to the social evils of his day. 🤍     Years ago when we lived in Seattle, there was a little old man I would see walking the streets, rain or shine.  He was ancient, and he wore a complete set of yellow rain gear, hat and all.      I called him November. Bless his heart. I think he was taking exercise.     In any case, I pray that our November this year brings us good news and a profound betterment in the national situation.     I pray for justice, and the revelation of truth. But above that I pray that God's will be manifest on earth.

Suzy and Toots vs The Shapeshifter

 

Even scarier than the real thing!

          The night of Banging on Doors came and mostly went. Apparently, it was not uneventful. Deep in the middle of the night, the girls compared notes…

            “Toots, hey Toots. Are you there? Can you talk now?” Suzy said from way deep behind the old piano on the back porch. It was 3 AM there and 5 AM at Toots’ location. “Are you alright?”
            “Mrrrrr, eh…, I think so,” said Toots, sounding unsure, but coming in as clear as usual.
            “Let’s purr for a bit, then talk,” said Suzy, sounding a little scrambled.
            That helped. They got their transmissions synchronized after a few minutes, and continued.
            “Did you have visitors at your house, Toots,” asked Suzy. “You know, door bangers?”
            “I only saw one or two, Suzy. That was enough!” sighed Toots.
            “What did they look like,” said Suzy, obviously full of her own stories.
            “Well. What I saw was this. I don’t know what to make of it. It was not a child, or maybe even human, Suzy. That’s why I said one was enough. Under the Vdub for me after that one! He had a skintight black suit on, like it was stretchy. Creepy much? And he had a hat on. The one people call a bowler hat, black also.
            “But the worst part was his face. I don’t know what to think. Big weird black eyes with no white part. Real people have white in their eyes. Then he said his name! OZ! What’s an OZ? I gave up! I could hear it through the wall! I was gone!” said Toots, beyond rattled.
            “Come on, Toots! He can’t have been in two places at the same time,” yowled Suzy!
            “There can’t be two of them,” insisted Toots.
“Well, either there are two of them, or IT can be in two places at the same time, Toots. Take your pick,” said Suzy.
            “I don’t wanna! Prrt. Hsssssssss!” remarked Toots.
            “Well get this, Toots. At my house they have given up sugar. Lol! So there was no candy here except an old bag of rolls of Smarties, those nasty little dry things like pills you know? Well, haha, that’s what OZ got for his trouble on this porch, I’ll tell you,” snickered Suzy. (Do cats snicker?)

          “After that, Toots, a big black Raven pecked on the door! I’m not lying! When they opened the door the Raven said, ‘Evermore!’. They gave her Smarties too. She had to eat them on the spot. Ravens don’t have pockets apparently, but they are very greedy.”

            “NO! Stop! I saw her fly by! I swear she did! Right by my window, croaking that same stupid word,” said Toots.
            “Then there was a big hairy dog with a missing fang, that talked, and wore corduroy pants and a flashy shirt! He was disgusting. He smelled awful. Also, I did NOT trust him. I was watching from deep cover, you may believe!” averred Suzy, with conviction.
            “You best believe I’d have been in deep cover,” said Toots, hissing again.
            “He got Smarties too! He wasn’t happy. I think he marked the porch after they shut the door!”
            “Disgusting. We don’t do that!” said Toots. “Oh, sometimes Toms do, but for good reasons, of course,” said Toots, “such as warnings!”
            “OK, there was one more door banger, Toots. It was a little black thing, not human, or animal. It had a long tail that it twirled around and around. They asked its name, and the thing said ‘That’ was its name.”
            “How did That like its Smarties?” laughed Toots.
            “I don’t know! It kind of blew up in a puff of stinky black smoke and vanished right off the porch,” said Suzy. “And I’ll tell you what Toots, I think they were all the same creature! No, really! I think we both saw the same darn shapeshifter! They all seemed to originate from the same source somehow? It was like this shifty thing got onto our wavelength somehow and we both saw it!”
            “Aw, Suzy. That might be too weird. I don’t get it,” said Toots, who was getting pretty sleepy because it was nearly morning.
            “The weird thing about Crazy Door Banging Night, is we just don’t know. Sometimes it’s just kids, and sometimes it’s something else. But the important thing is that you and I and those two unimaginative cats, Willie and Sammie too, made it through the night alive!”
            “I guess someone was pulling our tails a bit, Suzy. But you’re right! All’s well, that ends well, and I hope to never see it again, in any guise!” said Toots.
            “No way!” said Suzy.
            And with some low-key hissing and purring transmission ended for Crazy Night.
            Suzy slipped out to the living room because she wanted to taste a Smartie and just see if it was as nasty as the writer said they were. She wasn’t impressed either. They were dry and crunchy and sort of sour. “Mrrp,” Suzy remarked, then went up to the back of the big chair to sleep.

What Will She Think of Next?

           One day, during the winter, there was a lot of snow on the ground, so that it looked quite festive in the Mt. BSNF, if one were inclined to see it that way. To some it would have looked like a Christmas card, or maybe a Hallmark movie. But, of course, Ramona was quite innocent of those associations. She thought it was a pretty, snowy day, and she felt like going for a walk and visiting her friends Thaga and Ooog.
            After making sure that Ralph, Twigg and the cats had a good solid breakfast, she gathered up Cherry, firmly, in her right arm, and in her left hand she carried a small bag of dry pitch lumps which Twigg had gathered from the tree trunks. It was a gift for Ooog. She thought he might find a use for some pitch.
            For someone of Ramona’s gait, it was a short, pleasant walk. Soon she had cleared the forest and was walking in brush and meadow land. As she approached her friends’ house the sun shone brilliantly on the deep snow. It made a pretty picture.
            When Ramona and Cherry came up to the porch doing that Sasquatch light step thing, Thaga, who had been watching, threw open the door. Ramona stomped the snow off of her feet and stepped into the warm old stone cottage.
            Faithful Maeve had been there earlier to warn of the upcoming visit.
            Ramona had something in mind to discuss with Thaga. It had been preying on her for a while.
            “Thaga,” she began, “I have been thinking.”
            “That’s good,” said Thaga. “You’re a good thinker, usually.” She looked at her friend with a big smile on her face.
            “No, I mean it,” said Ramona.
            “I think I want a dress,” she said. “You have dresses and skirts and sweaters, and I like them, Thaga. Why can’t I have a dress too?”
        “Oh, my,” said Thaga.
            “But you Hairless get all the pretty stuff!”
            “It’s not that simple,” sighed Thaga. “Sure, I have skirts and dresses, and I made them all myself too!”
            “Why couldn’t you make a dress for me?” wheedled Ramona, sounding something like her son.
            “I could, though drafting a pattern your size would be a feat!” giggled Thaga. “But the trouble is, that a dress is not just a dress, Ramona. It means something. If nothing else, it implies laundry. Clothing must be cared for.”
            “But all I want is the dress,” said Ramona, grabbing Cherry as she drifted by, and settling the babe into her lap. “I’m not asking to be initiated into the mysteries of Hairless culture.”
            “You know why us hairless types wear clothing? It’s because we’re too funny looking without it, and we get cold, or sunburnt, or chewed up by mosquitoes.
            “You’re already ‘dressed’,” she added.
            “But I feel so plain,” cried Ramona. “I’m the same every day!”
            “You’re naturally elegant, putting dresses on you would be as silly as dressing flowers or those pumas. It wouldn’t add anything. It would cover up your elegance.
            “I think the problem is in your mind, not on your body,” said sincere Thaga. “Remember when Ralph wore those jeans for a while? You thought it was ridiculous and that he was putting on airs! What would he say if you showed up in a big old dress on top of your lovely curly hair?”
            Ramona had to laugh. She hadn’t considered that. He might think that she was putting on airs, she had to admit. “But Thaga, what if he liked my dress?” asked Ramona.
            “Then you would have a complication to deal with in your idyllic life in the forest. One dress leads to other things. Other clothing items. What if your beautiful hair started to drop out? I don’t know if it would of course.
            “But then, how would you wash it? You would have to take it to the river and scrub it there. That implies soap or detergent. Where would you get that? Well, from me I suppose. Do you need more work?
            “How far do you want to go in being like us, are you sure it would be an improvement?”
            “I guess I was feeling envious, Thaga. I love your pretty flowery cloth!”
            “Oh, sweet dear Ramona, there is no reason to envy Mankind, female division,” laughed Thaga. “We have our joys and sorrows, but being naturally beautiful is not one of them for most of us, once youth has flown!
        “I see what the nub of this sudden desire is,” said Thaga.

            “You are so kind and wise,” murmured Ramona, a bit sadly.
            “I tell you what, sweetie, let’s go look at my scraps and big pieces of flowery cloth and we will start to make a new quilt. Surely Twigg and Cherry are both going to need quilts as they get older. You will see the beautiful cloth every time you look at or move the quilts. We can start now, and we can work together. Does that sound good?”
            “Yes. That makes sense,” agreed Ramona.
            So, that was just what they did. They looked all afternoon at Thaga’s fabric pieces and planned away a pleasant day.
            Ramona carried her daughter home through falling snow later, with her head all full of beautiful plans and designs, and she was comforted.

Happy Tuesday Open Thread

 

    Honestly, I shook the story box and it refused to cooperate. So, there you have it.

    So, I'm just wishing you all a very fine Tuesday, with all the best gifts that Tuesdays are famous for!

    Oh, the sunflowers? We were on the way to the blueberry ranch last September and came upon this impressive display of sunflowers by the small farm road.

    Willie and Suzy asked to have their greetings included today. So, Brrrrt! & Meow!

What An Odd Night!

 

            It was such a beautiful night. It was the kind of night that made people want to stay outside, no matter how late it got to be. It was chilly, but not frosty yet. There was some snow lying around under the trees, leftover from the first snow of the year.
            The moon was shining, and here and there its light could be seen on the forest floor. But a persistent wind was hustling a few clouds across the face of the moon once in a while, darkening the night intermittently. The scene seemed to hold a promise, but of what?
            A great gray owl floated silently through the clearing, examining the forest floor.
            Even after the dinner of roast wild turkey and some of that strange large squash, Ralph just didn’t feel drowsy. The night was calling, and he was hearing the call. Mysterious impressions drifted just beyond his consciousness.
            “What a night!” he thought. “I’m not sleepy at all!  I wonder if that squash does that? I’ll ask Thaga.”
            He was standing mostly in shadow watching the play of moonlight as it moved across the forest floor when, incredibly, he heard voices. “Who in the world would be out here in the middle of the night?” he asked himself in wonder. Just as a precaution, he became imperceptible to regular eyesight. He was intrigued.
            “This place looks haunted as heck,” said one youthful male voice.
            “Ben, I don’t like it,” said another.
            “Oh, come on! They say if you come out here on this night, you could see something pretty weird,” said Ben.
            A third voice said, “don’t mess it up by being a baby, Melvin!”
            “Easy for you to say, Karl. You don’t have any imagination at all,” said Melvin in a quiet whisper, as the three young men wandered into the Home Clearing from the direction of the two lane highway just a short walk through the forest.
            They were dressed all in dark clothing and hats, as if they imagined themselves to be very stealthy. Two of them were very white of face, which showed up just fine in the moonlight. The third, who seemed to be the one called Ben, was darker, and almost invisible.
            As Ralph watched, the owl came back. It flew over the boys' heads. In the next moment there was a small dying shriek a short distance away.
            “What was that?” cried Melvin.
            “Nothing,” said Karl, sniggering.
            “It was an owl. I’m out here with a chicken and an idiot,” said Ben. “An owl is not what we're looking for, is it?”
            “What are we looking for?” said Melvin, who was wondering how he had gotten himself into this excursion.
            “Proof. Once and for all,” said Ben in a hushed, dramatic voice. “I’d bet anything this is a Sasquatch camp, right here! That old Indian said it was somewhere up here, and I want to see them.”
            Ralph’s invisible eyebrows went up.
            “I wish we had some beer,” said Karl. “I’m bored.”
            “I don’t think we should be here,” said Melvin, rather forcefully for him. “What if they don’t want us here, barging around acting stupid?”
            “They? What they? There isn’t even a ghost out here,” said Karl.
            Karl wasn’t the only one getting bored. Ralph was tiring of this cornball drama being enacted so near his home, and his sleeping family. So, taking a cue from the kids, he began a low ghostly moan. He made it throb. It was almost subliminal. But it still got their attention. It felt, to them, like being hit with big soft waves of ominous warning.
            The boys froze in their places, uttering not a sound.
            He walked up near to the trio and screamed like the famous Banshee of Ireland. He decided to hit them with some odor too. It was pretty rank.  The boys retched.
            Seeing that those efforts seemed to be working nicely, Ralph made a sound like boulders rolling down a steep incline and getting closer and closer.  This was a new trick, and he had been wanting to try it out.
            Ben, who wanted proof, and Karl, who had no imagination, abandoned the whole idea and simply ran for the highway and Ben’s Ford, leaving Melvin there by himself.

         Seeing himself alone, he relaxed and looked all around at the big trees, the moonlight on the forest floor, and the scraps of leftover snow. The picture seemed to enchant him. He smiled at it all.
            “If you’re here, I’m not scared. I’m sorry we barged into your forest,” said Melvin.
            “It’s alright,” said Ralph, appearing rather gradually to give the kid time to adjust. “I’ve seen blockheads like that before and some of them were Forest Keepers. I could name a few that live right around here.” He smiled at the kid, hoping he truly wasn’t scared.
            “Wow! You’re real!” said Melvin.
            “So are you,” said Ralph, giggling. “Who knew?  We’re both real!"
            “Now you have seen the truth, and they ran away like babies, Melvin. How about that? But I tell you what.  I’m getting sleepy, so I’m going to send you home.  This works great. Just close your eyes Melvin and think of home, and you will be back before they hit the outskirts of Milltown.”
            So, Melvin did as he was told, still grinning and very happy, and Ralph sang a song of going home, in the second person, and in a couple of verses, he was alone again in the moonlight.
            He shook his big old head, laughed at the night’s business, and headed on home to bed, with still several hours before sunrise.

What Do Cats Think?

 

 

            I often wonder, when the cats watch me make light happen with a flick of my hand, what they think has just happened.

            Do they just accept it?  Humans have the power of light in their hands? In that case, we also have the power to make water appear. We bring forth food. We must possess great power in their minds surely.

            We disappear. We re-appear.

            We pay a great deal of attention to things that must look like nothing more than moving lights on a flat surface.

            Since Suzy is sitting here on the right side armrest of my chair, maybe I should ask her.

            “So, Suzy, would you like to comment? What do you think about lights appearing when I flip a switch?”

            “Oh,” says Suzy. “Are those connected? I  hadn’t noticed. Light comes and goes. I think you must be kidding me!”

            “Well, no. I wasn’t joking,” says I. “Do you not look for causation in life, dear?”

            She pauses a moment to consider, “I look for hazards. I try to stay way out of harm’s way! Life is so shifty-weird, anything could happen. Though, I must admit that so far, nothing really bad has happened. But it could!”

            “OK, sweetie, one more question,” I say.

            Rusty little meow from Suzy. I take that for assent.

            “What do you think I am doing when I push these buttons, and the lights change on the big flat surface I’m looking at?”

            “Oh! You’re playing! I know how to play too! You push the buttons, and it makes a nifty sound, and then the lights change. Sometimes, I like to watch the colored lights, just like you do!” says the kitty girl.

            “My best game is the hunting. But, mostly there isn’t anything to hunt,” she sighs.

            “Well,” I say, patting her little head, “I think your way of looking at things works pretty well. You are philosophical about that which you don’t understand, but you are also aware of your surroundings, which is a good thing. And you love to play. Play is a pretty good stand in for the hunt, huh honey?”

            She looks at me like, “why do you talk so much?”

            Then we just purr together for a while. It’s what she likes best.

In Honor Of Our Own "Green Man"

     Chapter Thirty Seven of the book I was editing yesterday.   I couldn't help but be reminded of the Foliage Faced Fellow. Myth may meet fantasy, but make reference to truth!

By Greenie himself!

              Dr. Geoff was sitting on an old style oaken office or library chair.  He was alone on stage. Oh, except for the one light shining toward him at a nice artistic angle.  He looked serious, kind, and academic.

          He put his hands on his blue-jeaned knees and looked intently out toward the audience. He didn’t know for sure if there was any audience, but there was that possibility. He smiled a measured, kindly smile, as if to encourage participation of a scholarly nature. But anyone could see that he would not smile upon unproven nonsense.
          When he looked to stage right, he noticed suddenly that there was another chair just like his. It was about a dozen feet from his own chair, facing the audience. He nodded in approval. But then a slight frown marred his brow. There seemed to be a very large, even brutal looking, form seated haphazardly on the other oaken chair. Dr. Geoff sat forward, attempting to better see who was there.
         What he saw was an enormous beast. It was perhaps eight feet tall and weighed many hundreds of pounds.  It had a pelt of deep brown fur, perhaps six inches long. So deeply set were the eyes, the Dr. Geoff couldn’t make them out in the dark face. He sat back in his chair, one eyebrow somewhat elevated. He did not express approval then
          Dr. Geoff noticed a strong odor of some feral funk, mixed with perhaps a scent of decay. He looked out toward the “audience” wondering if anyone else was aware of the stench filling his own experience. He crossed his arms over his chest.  Then he took a discreet peek at his phone. He frowned at the screen and put it away again.
          When he looked over at the other chair again, it seemed to him that the animal had taken a more normal posture in the chair, sitting rather like a man might, though this figure was much larger than a man. One of its paws was up by its chin and it seemed to be looking right back at the doctor. Dr. Geoff wasn’t used to being closely observed in this manner by a wild animal of any kind, let alone a very large and possibly dangerous one.
          He began to notice a plantlike note to the odor filling the stage. It was like crushed ferns and some other smell that he didn’t recognize, perhaps just the smell of disturbed earth. On top of that, the stage environment had changed a little. It was hard to see what exactly was different though. But there was some kind of brushy business going on all around the seated figure opposite the doctor, things that he hadn’t noticed before.
          He thought he heard some sort of vocalization from the other chair. A heavy huffing sound, surely not laughter? Could the beast be giggling? Animals don’t giggle, he assured himself. He had never read of animals giggling in any journal, anywhere.
         The doctor rose from his chair to get a closer look at the animal. The first thing he noticed stage right, was a lot of vegetation all over the floor, but it wasn’t like a normal floor. It was soft and yielding. The smell was stronger, but more pleasant and woodsy actually.  There was no other chair.  He wondered why he had thought there was another chair.
          The very large figure was sitting on what appeared to be a fallen cedar log of huge size.  An inquisitive looking Raven sat on the creature’s left shoulder. This was absolutely not possible thought Dr. Geoff.  We were just on stage in front of an audience of silent watchers, he said to himself in astonishment. Stunned, he took a few more steps. He stumbled a bit like he was crossing an unseen threshold.
          The stage disappeared behind Dr. Geoff like a door had closed silently.  Gentle light filled the forest clearing where the log lay. Lazy insect life shone in the sunlight and then disappeared in shadows. Round and round they flew. An unmistakable scent of resin and mold filled his scholarly nose. It was warm and drowsy there, dreamlike, but very solid too. The doctor could hear distant bird calls.

         “There’s lots of room up here on the log,” said the huge figure, with an encouraging smile and a wink.                 “Why don’t you hop up here and we’ll spin a yarn or two and get to know each other,” said Ralph, the most amiable of hosts in the Baker Snoqualmie National Forest.

          Speechless, but agreeably, the doctor made an athletic backward leap up onto Ralph’s cedar log. He looked around, taking careful note of everything. This was going to change everything, everything, he thought to himself, all of it. To the doctor’s credit he seemed to be more pleased than anything else he might have been in this situation.
          “When it gets a little later we can go see what Ramona has been making for dinner, we can sit around the fire and talk all night and you can meet the kid.  By the way, I have some beers tucked away down under this log where it’s cool.  Like a beer, doctor?” inquired Ralph. “In fact, I have some cigars too! Do you like a cigar, doctor?”
          “I like a cigar once in a while,” grinned Ralph. “They’re Cubans!”
          “Well, yes, I think I would like that,” said Geoff.  “Say, what did you say your name was?”
          “It’s Ralph. Didn’t start out that way, but it got that way!” Ralph shook his head in amazement and patted the doctor on the back with his large hand.
          “When it gets real late, I’ll show ya how to dance yourself home Geoff. It’ll be okay.”