Possibly The Last Straw This Time

 

A Story For A New Year

            It was that boring time of year. Pretty tree days were over. The lights! The lights! Ah well. Gone until next winter! Loud geboomin’ night was right around the corner, not a big favorite with house lions.
            Willie had nothing much to do. So, stretching and yawning, he went looking for his sister, just to see what she was up to. Sometimes it was entertaining.
            He didn’t see her in any of the usual places. Not on the sewing desk looking out of the front window. Not behind the piano. Not behind those boxes full of stuff on the back porch. So, where could the little nut be?
            He knew this was crazy, but he went looking for her in the bathroom and there she was in the shower. It seemed odd. But it was a very quiet day, and he had nothing to do.
            “Suzzo, what is that spicy smell?” said he.
            “Cinnamon, what do you think,” said Suzy. But her speech was strangely garbled.
            “What are you doing? What’s wrong with your mouth…” Willie was so confused.
            “I’m chewing it!” said Suzy.
            “Chewing what?”
            “Gum,” mumbled Suzy.
            “Why would you be chewing gum, Susan,” demanded Willie in astonishment.
            “To keep the wolfies away,” said Suzy, busily chewing away.
            “I don’t get the connection.” Now he was really mystified.
            “What is a wolfie, anyhow?”
            “I don’t know, but it sounds dangerous. She said cinnamon keeps bad things from getting inside of me. I heard her talking! They mentioned cinnamon gum!”
            “I can’t hear what you're saying, Suzy. You sound like a stopped up drainpipe,” said Willie. “Besides, where did you get this stuff?”
            “Oh. You know,” said Suzy.
            “Well, no, I don’t,” said Willie, “and none of us has ever seen a wolfie!”
            “I have!” said Charley, appearing suddenly, with a sniff and a hiss! “They’re six feet tall, and they chew cinnamon gum!”
            “Where the heck did you come from,” said Willie.
            “I came in here to use the box and found you two goofballs discussing something you’ve never seen.”

            "I didn't even know you were here," complained Willie.
            “They can’t chew cinnamon gum!” said Suzy. “They would be dead! Um, what do they look like?”
            Charley tucked herself down into a small black and white loaf shape. She slitted her eyes and got into mythic story mode, ready to tell a thrilling tale. She was also in the shower.
            “I saw one once,” Charley moaned.
            “Oooo,” said Suzy. “Tell us more! Where was it?”
            “One night, we were outside. We went for a walk down by the big river. I was on my leash, so I couldn’t run away!” whispered Charley. “The wind was blowing. Things flitted by in the air like little ragged ghosts. I could hear unnatural sounds from underground. Bubbles flew by, whipped out of  her bubble machine. Eerie bubbles, shining in the street lights!”
            “Noooo!” whispered Suzy. Her mouth hung agape, and her eyes looked like startled green marbles.
            “Then I saw it, the wolfie,” said Charley, through gritted teeth. “It was nearly as big as a motorcycle; it was shaggy and grey. It was big and bony! It was singing or howling, or something….
            “and there it is! Run, Suzy! It’s coming up out of the litter box!” yelled Charley.
            Suzy spit out her gum on the shower floor, and split as only Suzy can split, or maybe like Toots could! She was recent history in a fur suit. She was gone, man! Poof! Like she had never been there at all! Only Charley was left to occupy the shower.
            We know that the laughing cat is a figure of improbability, but Charley was giggling, sitting there in the shower.
            “Doggone it, Charley,” said Willie. “Why do you have to be that way?”
            Snuffles and giggling from Charley was all he heard.
            “Now I have to go find her and convince her not to believe anything you tell her!” said Willie. “Last time it took me overnight and into the next day to find her!”
            “Where was she that time?” giggled Charley.
            “In the drawer under the oven. Don’t ask,” said Willie, walking away.
            Charley thought maybe she could find Suzy first and calm her down. Suzy was in none of her normal roosting spots.
            At last Charley found Suzy behind a stack of towels in the bathroom closet.
            After a while she got Suzy to laugh about the whole charade, enough to not be afraid of the litter box.
            Willie’s takeaway from the episode was that girls are weird, first they go one way, then they go the other. Who can understand it?

Happy New Year you guys!

           

Let's Look At A Remington Nocturne Or Two

             After we talked about cowboy painters yesterday, I spent some time looking at Frederick Remington paintings. 

            This one caught my eye at last, as the most interesting, and most out of character with his other paintings.

            It is one of his Nocturnes.  He was trying to paint the colors of night, as he said.

            He was one of those guys who started out illustrating journals, but then went on to more formal work, such as the above painting.

***

In Evening on a Canadian Lake, an alarming sound or movement outside the picture plane has caught the attention of the figures in the canoe. The subject of their interest remains unknown. Remington explained his artistic approach: "Cut down and out—do your hardest work outside the picture, and let your audience take away something to think about—to imagine."

            There are other Nocturnes.

Coming to the Call.

The Grass Fire

            But, while we're thinking about night scenes, we can still enjoy his older works, of daylight scenes with really excellent horse renderings. 

The Lookout, 1887

What Was It You Said?

 

            “I mentioned that I liked that Wolf, Maeve,” said Ramona. “I thought he was off for home. Why did you say you like him? Are you expecting him back?” Ramona looked at the big black bird expectantly.
Maeve strutted about on Ralph’s shoulder, muttering to herself for a bit.
            “I’m not sure myself why I said it that way. But now that I think it through, no. I don’t believe he is gone yet,” Maeve said, “you know what? I think he’s still around here.”
            “What makes you think so?” Ramona wondered.
            “Easy!  I can see him. And there he is!” said Maeve, pointing with her big beak back towards the pathway into the trees.
            And as a matter of fact, there came Wolf, emerging from the fog again.
            He looked a little embarrassed, if a wolf can look embarrassed. Maybe it was something in the way he held his head down, looking off to the side. He even licked his lips, as if preparing to speak before an audience.
            “There’s something you don’t see every day,” said Ralph, cheerfully. “Back so soon, Wolf? What can we do to help?”
            Since it was evening now, the flames flickered in a homely fashion, lighting up Ralph’s broad face. Wolf came to his side and sat there on his haunches for a few minutes gazing into the fire. He looked deeply feral. His eyes reflected the dancing flames.
            Ramona and the children and cats had gone off to bed in the cave, so it was only the two of them sitting out there by the fire.
            At last he spoke. “Your Firekeeper is very faithful and beautiful.”
            “That she is, Wolf. What’s on your mind,” asked Ralph, softly, trying not to make a big deal of anything to put Wolf at ease if he could.
            “I got to thinking of the gift of speech, and also conscience. And though I must have the power to bestow it, like you did to me, but I’m not sure how to go about it.  I remember you sang a song, but since I was non-speaking, when I heard the words they meant little to me, and I can’t remember those words.
            “What if I approached one of my own kind, or even a child of the feral Forest People at home and at the last moment realized that I didn’t know the song, or what to say?” said Wolf.
            “I see. I didn’t include confidence in the song,” said Ralph. “You know, you don’t really need a song. Not sure for sure.  The Shining One who told me to speak didn’t sing a song. It’s just that I know how to build a song that works. That’s just how I do it.”
            “Well, could you teach me your song anyhow, it would make me feel better,” said Wolf.
            “Sure, I can do that, Wolf,” said Ralph.
            So, the Wolf opened his heart and his ears. Sitting there as the fire died down for the night, Ralph taught him the words of the Talking Song, with an added line for the confidence to believe it was possible to impart speech. They went over it several times until Wolf and Ralph were both sure that he would remember it, as it was drilled into the substance of his body and mind.
            “Who do you expect to meet back at home, Wolf? Who shall receive this little coal?”
            “I shall meet whomever I meet,” said Wolf. “I am hoping to meet my people, if any still live there. That would be very fine and worthwhile, but in my secret thoughts are the children of the wild, cruel Forest People who inhabit the mountains and forests of my home country.”
            “That would be more than fine and worthwhile dear Wolf,” agreed Ralph. “Both among your own brave and good people, who are so nearly thinking as a man thinks, and among the wild ones of my kind.”
            “One other thing I would ask of you, Ralph,” said the Wolf. “As I am to be a speaker among the speaking, I desire a name. Will you give me a name, sir?”
            This was a surprise to Ralph, but he gave the request several minutes of serious consideration.
            Then he said, “Victor. I will give you the name, Victor.”
            “Thank you,” said Victor to Ralph, speaking eye to eye.
            “Wear it well,” said Ralph.
            And even though it was dark, Victor started for home once again, walking into the mystical deep forest with his golden eyes shining.

One Of Those Days! Open Thread

 

🐈💙😸

            Willie and I would like to assure you that everything is coming along just fine, though there has been a bit of a technical glitch today, delaying all story writing responsibilities!

            My computer was very naughty today!

            We're wishing you the best Saturday at the end of a year that anyone ever had!

            Bless all your little hearts!

            

The Great Grey Wolf Moves On

 

Bitterroot Mountain Range, Idaho.

            “What do you think it was that the shining One gave you, Ralph,” asked the newly aware Wolf.
            “I think it might have been just the ability to see right and wrong separately from my own desires,” said Ralph. He looked like he hadn’t really put that thought out in words, as if it were a bit of a surprise to him also.
            “I think that without knowing the words “right” and “wrong”, I might have just been reacting to things like something rolling downhill. I think those words imply choice or judgement, which then implies that there is some judge that is separate from the self. Then, we have something to deal with!” said Ralph.
            “I don’t think that you were ever crude or simple,” said Ramona, “even without language.”
            “Maybe not, or maybe that’s why I was able to receive from the shining One. It’s a mystery to me,” said Ralph. “Many of our kind would have run the other way, at least, or maybe attacked him.”
            “It is a mystery,” said Ramona. “But I have to admit that I didn't know you before you spoke.”
            “You certainly weren’t savage the first time I saw you, Mona. But you were very clever! I remember that shining pool of water in the moonlight..”
            “I was merely bathing! Can I help it if you were wandering around by the river in the middle of a spring night?” asked Ramona.
            Wolf looked from face to face, smiling. He knew love when he saw it, with or without the word.
            But in a return to the subject of their conversation, Wolf said, “so, I would guess that whatever was given to you in that moment, you passed on to me. Therefore, this blessing or healing or development is transmissible!
            “You have made me a carrier of a type of fire,” said Wolf with a distant look in his shining golden eyes. “I wonder what I could do with these coals, Ralph? Could I set the people of my home forest afire with speech?”
            “What have you done to me, friend?” cried the Wolf suddenly. “You have shown me a terrible choice!”
            “It doesn’t have to be terrible. When you and I met out by my cedar log, it wasn’t a terrible meeting,” Ralph reminded Wolf.
            Right about then, with the fire burning down to coals and everyone talking around that fire, down out of the tree tops drifted Maeve on her silent black wings. She located Ralph and landed on his shoulder. Looking about, she saw the Wolf, so large, grey and fierce looking.
            “Who are you,” said Maeve.
            “I'm a chance encounter, in the flesh,” said Wolf.
            “Who are you, raven,” inquired Wolf.
            “I am a watcher and a messenger,” countered Maeve. “I have the ear of Ralph, himself!”
            “So, you do!” laughed the Wolf.
            “This is Maeve, the greatest of the Ravens,” said Ralph. Maeve took a bow, with closed eyes and widely spread wings.
            “Ho! Madam Maeve, how did you come to speak as a man or a woman, in fact?” said Wolf.
            “All ravens speak,” said Maeve, “but not all of them know what they're saying.” She loved saying this.  It gave her the giggles. “I picked it up by paying attention and possibly by having a penchant for research and observation.  My children say the word ‘snoopy.’ However, it is the parent’s fate to be tried in the court of his or her own children.”
            “I think it would be a worse fate to be tried in the court of one’s own mind,” said Wolf. The shaggy grey head looked from person to person before speaking.
            “I was going to say it was time for me to be moving on and thank you kindly for the fine dinner and the conversation, but it seems that I must go home instead,” said Wolf.
            With that, he rose to all fours and as quietly as he had appeared he left the Home Clearing, headed in the direction from which he had come.
            Ralph, Ramona, and Maeve watched him fade into the dimness of the forest.
            “I liked that Wolf,” said Ramona.
            “I like him too,” said Maeve.
            “A real lady charmer, that Wolf,” laughed Ralph. But in his secret heart, he was wishing Wolf success, seriously.

December 26, 2024, Thanks All and Open Thread

🌸🤍🌸

 

        Just a note of thanks to all of you dear readers and commenters. We continue to be tickled to see you and read what you have to say.

        It's been a privilege and a great pleasure.

        Thanks also to the other meowderator and writer, LoneStar. Goodness knows what might have happened if he didn't keep an eye on things!

        

        Onward!  2025, here we come! In just a few short winter days!

        I note, also, in passing, that I haven't seen a speck of snow yet!!

❄❄❄

Blest Christmas Morn

 

✯

A Morality Play in Furs

 Merry Christmas All!

            Ramona had that grill platform thing laid over the coals in the stone circle and on that grill was laid rather a lot of an unlucky young deer. A fat young buck. She was pleased with his progress over the heat. He was rubbed with garlic, rosemary, and some red pepper powder. Ramona was just getting into chili as a seasoning.
            She knew that Ralph had a kind of mystic sense about when the food was nearly ready, so she was expecting him to materialize at any moment. No surprises.
            When she sensed movement and looked up she saw Ralph, himself, approaching with a very large grey wolf ambling along by his side, doing that floaty thing wolves do when they’re relaxed. She was glad that she was cooking most of a deer.
            “Look who I’ve got, Mona,” said Ralph. “This is a Wolf with no name, but he can talk now!”
            Ramona turned her eyes to the wolf. “Hello, Wolf. How are you this very fine day?”
            “I seem to be as fine as ever, Firekeeper,” said the wolf, rather surprising himself. The more he spoke the more words came to him unbidden. It was quite an experience, considering that a bare half hour before he had been totally wordless.
            “It seems to me that Wolf must be a name,” said Ramona.
            “What is a name, except a very singular description,” said the wolf.
            “Fair enough,” said Ramona. “I like the name ‘Firekeeper’ very well, thank you.”
            “So, tell me Wolf, where do you come from? Where is your home den? Who waits there?” said she. “While this cooks a bit more we can talk.”
            Ralph couldn’t remember Ramona taking an instant interest in a visitor like this before. In his fascination, he silently took a seat and just listened. Ralph is a very attentive observer.
            Wolf thought about how to explain where he had come from. Finally, he said, “I come from a range of mountains far toward the sunrise. I came down out of that range, then I crossed many miles of flat farm land. After that I entered another range of mountains. If I kept going I would come to a great water, so I have heard.”
            Ramona tested the venison with the tip of her knife, then sat on one of the logs next to Ralph.
            “Why did you travel so very far, Wolf? Was is love that drove you, or fear?” asked Ramona.
            “I must say that it was both, lady Firekeeper. I loved my life, and I feared the loss of it!”
            As he was speaking both Berry and Bob crept up to the fire circle. Silent and wary, but observing that this great beast was sitting quietly, they merely watched and listened with their long tails wrapped around their feet..
            “How so, Wolf?” said she. “Who could threaten you?”
            “They look much as you do. But there’s the end of it,” said Wolf. “They are unspeaking and unsparing. Killing and eating is all. They have eaten their own young, lady. I’ve seen this.
            “They don’t use fire, as you do. Their only tools are sticks and unshaped stones. They capture creatures and even men and keep them alive for a time.
            “Since I had no family and no one waits for me, I traveled until I was out of their hunting grounds.”
            “Hey, Wolf, no wonder you didn’t look happy to see me,” said Ralph. “Most creatures around here don’t look at me like that, unless I’m hunting them, which I can see you thought was a possibility.”
            Ramona decided that the venison was done, so she gave a little whistle and Twigg appeared. He walked up quietly when he saw who had come for dinner. He looked at Ralph, who was grinning, and then Ramona before deciding not to worry.
            Cherry had been napping, but she appeared also, and dinner was served. Between them all, they ate it all except for the bones. Those went into the fire.
            Ramona made some mint tea. Wolf and the puma bros had theirs from  bowls. Every one else had a wooden cup. She passed a bowl of toasted hazelnuts for dessert. Wolf liked them, but Berry and Bob didn’t.
            It was Wolf’s time to ask questions now that dinner was over.
            His great golden eyes took in everything in the Home Clearing. He saw signs of care and comfort everywhere. There was the nice cave, the fire circle, the seating arrangements, even Ralph’s log a little out in the forest.
            He looked at the pumas. He tipped his head like any curious canid. He took a moment to look at Twigg and Cherry sitting nicely and well cared for near their parents.
            He looked at Ramona, so kind and competent. Then he looked at Ralph. Then he spoke.
            “Sir, lord of this land, do you have a name? Or are you too absolute to need one?” he asked.
            “My name is Ralph. I wasn’t born to that name. It kind of came along later in life,” said Ralph.
            “Why are you not like them?” asked Wolf. “Why are you speaking, and cooking food and caring for your young, and even have animals who are friends?”
            “How is it, that you are kind?” said the Wolf. Then, sitting on his shaggy haunches, he waited to hear what Ralph would say.
            “Ah, Wolf. Now, there’s a subject of subjects. It’s a bit of a tale too.
            “Memory is a tricky thing. For instance, my memory of the time before I had language is strange and dreamlike, being mostly undefined, when I look back at it, now having the faculty of speech.” Ralph cleared his throat and continued.
            “You wonder how we here became speakers. Well, it was much like how you became a speaker just now. One came to me when I was alone, long before I knew Ramona or had this place. I was just wandering as a wild animal does, seeking food or rest. One stood before me in the pathway. I stopped and gazed. He was the most astounding thing I had ever seen.  Light came off of him, as if he were afire in some sense. He approached me, and I withstood his approach, which seemed to make some kind of important point to him. He laid his hands around my throat and bade me speak.
            “It took a little while to get used to speaking. I started practicing on humans when I got a chance, and even hanging around outside their houses and listening to the language inside.
            “Then I met Ramona and here we are!! She learned quickly!” said Ralph.
            “But still, the question remains,” cried the Wolf. “Why are you not cruel and cloddish? Just having speech doesn’t create kindness!”
            “No, dear Wolf. You are correct about that, as far as it goes. But language does create choice. Then naturally, you arrive at being responsible for what you know, you know?
            “I began to see that this and that were not the same, and that one was better than the other, and that required me to make choices, which I have done until this day.
            “Well, that, and I think that shining One added something when he touched me,” said Ralph at last.
            “I believe that,” said Wolf.
            “I think that you were probably kind all along,” said Ralph. “Wolves are very fine creatures!”
            “Thanks, Ralph. Nice of you to say so!” said Wolf.

Merry Christmas Eve Eve & Happy Monday

             What a beautiful thing. A lighted tree in the snow. Serene and glamorous.

           It seems to say "peace," take a moment. Let the moment surround you.

           Wishing you a lovely day, this Monday before Christmas 2024.

The Great Grey Solstice Wolf

 

 

            It was the shortest day of the year. Twilight hung in the trees like fog. Neither light nor quite dark, the day dallied over the decision. To go, or to linger, as if it had a choice.
            Out of this matrix of grey, this ambivalent atmosphere, one came strolling. If you had been there looking, you might not have noticed his quiet approach.
            His head was low and broad, sweeping from side to side just a bit. The eyes were green, or maybe gold, shining in the gloom. He was tall for a canid. His coat was rough. Seen closely it would have looked darker than the twilight. His tail hung loose and brushy. This was no curly tailed dog. Over his shoulders hung a shaggy area like some warrior’s winter cape.
            He smelled smoke and with it cooking meat. It had been a day or so since he had eaten. Still, he stopped to read the scene.
            Looking down into the space between the huge firs, he saw a fire being tended by a kind of woman, a forest woman. The scent of  her fire and her food filled his mind with longing.  Still, he sat watching her move around. As he watched, children came to her side. So, a mother.
            Two full grown pumas entered the campsite. But they committed no mischief. Instead, they seemed to be bonded to the family.
            He began to have a feeling that the father, the captain, of this group must be somewhere nearby, and that he had neglected to ascertain his location. This could be a fatal error. Maybe not, but this father wouldn’t have left his family exposed.
            From somewhere back in the trees he heard someone very large clear his throat. Then, “hey, wolf, come here.  I’d like to talk with you. Peace.”
            The great grey wolf walked slowly into the trees in the direction of the deep voice. He felt drawn. He was still hungry, but he had been hungry before. No matter. This invitation interested him.
            Looming, but seated, in the gloomy dimness was the leader of that pack down by the fire. His appearance was terrifyingly large and dark until he spoke.
            “Have a seat, wolf. Up here. By me,” said the huge figure, with careless warmth in his voice. He patted a spot on the large downed log where he sat, with his hand. So, agreeably, the wolf made a great leap and landed up there beside the forest man. They regarded one another eye to eye.
            What the wolf saw; deeply set large brown eyes, a wide face, broad nose, a typical male pattern of dark hair around the face and chin. Not much of a neck. Very wide shoulders, but a figure that was deep from front to back also. A big torso covered in long fine dark wavy hair. Then of course the big legs and feet. He smelled of resin and perhaps forest loam.
            What the forest man saw, as described before. A larger than average male grey wolf, with no fear in his eyes, but some sort of Ur level wisdom. Since he was relaxed, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and he waited to see what would happen next.
            “Say, wolf, how would you like to be a speaking wolf? It’d be easier to have a chat if you could talk,” said the big guy, eyebrows up inquiringly.
            Now, the wolf had surely not expected that. But, being a rather special wolf and wise, he nodded and gave a soft “wuff” a couple of times.
            So the big guy put his hand on the wolf’s throat and sang a song that he had dreamed up a few days ago called the Talking Song. This was the very first time he had sung it for an animal, and he was pretty excited to see how it worked, or if it worked.
            When he had finished singing all the verses, he opened his eyes and looked at the wolf.   
            “So, how do you feel?  Want to try talking? It might feel funny at first, but I think you’ll figure it out and it’s mostly like thinking anyhow, with sounds.”
            “Throat feels wrong,” said the wolf.
            “Not surprised,” said Ralph, encouragingly. “Try again!”
            “Hungry,” said the wolf. He was starting to like this. He began to understand the possibilities of it.
            “You’re doing great!” chortled Ralph. “Hey, do you have a name?”
            “Never needed one. Was just the best wolf I could be,” said the wolf.
            “Still don’t need one,” he continued.
            “Maybe if I was going to stay here and needed to talk, I would need a name,” he said.
            “Oh, makes sense. But since you’re hungry, let’s go down to the cookfire and see what my Ramona has cooked up.  She always makes a lot because she knows I might bring someone home with me!”
            “I don’t want to frighten her, or make her angry, or frighten the children or those big cats either,” said Wolf. “I will come if by doing so I do no harm.”
            “Nah, Ramona’s cool, Wolf. And if she’s not scared the kids and the cats will be cool too! Don’t give it another thought,” said Ralph, already hopping down from his throne and getting ready to head to the fire.
            “Let’s go give em a thrill,” said Ralph happily. “I’m hungry too!”
            “OK, then,” said Wolf getting into the spirit of the thing, quite enthusiastically.

            

Norman Rockwell Christmas Open Thread

             It was hard to pick one. He painted so many Christmas scenes. Some are very carefully posed realistic illustrations of what an American Christmas might look like a few decades ago.

            Some look like magazine projects.

            I liked this one because it has elements of fantasy, but is painted in Rockwell's best style.

            I love the elves. And the old guy himself is 100% believable!

🤍🎅🏻🤍

Happy Last Saturday Before Christmas!

Wheeee!

Just A Wee Bit Of A Fable

 

            Maeve was minding her own business, preening and posing, walking up and down a large fir branch. From time to time she explored underneath a feather or two. She made a grand sight there. Much bigger than a common raven, and much more given to drama, she was practicing her favorite word.
            Like a spirit from another world, an iridescent humming bird, green and red and brown, whirred up to Maeve’s great high branch and addressed her there.
            “Oh great Raven, thou expounder of epiphanies, I am full to my gorge with a certain question,” said this wee thrumming bird.
            “Say on, but first, a name! How are you called?” said Maeve.
            “Among the speaking, I am Lars,” he said.
            “Well met Lars, now to the question,” said she.
            “As you know, when night approaches we small birds go to our lodges and sleep. And even if we did not, most usually the sky over our heads is grey and concealing. However, one night I was jostled out of my bed and happened to look up.  Oh great Raven, all over the sky was deep and full of lights! All different sizes and in mysterious groupings.
            “Can you tell me what it means, or just what it is?”
            “Oh, Lars, I daren’t say. We must apply to the King of the mighty forest here,” said Maeve. “Come with me!”
            Together they floated down through the great trunks, Maeve with her six foot wingspread and Lars like a shining mote.
            The first creature they met was Bob, the more loquacious of the puma bros., as he paced to and fro near center stage. Noticing their approach, he said, “what does this mean? An out of season humming bird traveling with you Maeve? What’s up?”
            “We come with a question for Ralph himself,” said she.
            “You can tell me first,” said Bob, curiously.
            “Very well. Lars, here, and I want to know the meaning and substance of the stars. I think we best ask Ralph. You may come along if you like.”
            So, Bob and Maeve walked, and Lars shimmered to the cooking fire, Ramona’s domain. And there she was, pulling feathers out of a wild turkey and throwing them in her fire making a heck of a stench.
            “You guys look like a committee,” said Ramona, “what’s up?”
            “It’s more like a quest,” said Maeve.
            “And?” said Ramona, spitting out a small feather which had floated up to her mouth. She looked at them with her eyebrows up. They did make quite a sight.
            “Small Lars here, came to me with a question, which I don’t feel qualified to answer. He’s all astounded by the night sky. He saw it one clear night and can’t get the stars out of his eyes,” said Maeve. “We want to talk to Ralph.”
            “Yes, ma’am,” said Lars, daring to speak to such a one as Ramona. “The King will know, I am sure.”
            Bob sat on his haunches and smiled that cat smile they do. Soon, Berry materialized to sit beside him.
            “You’ll find him out on his log thinking, or smoking a cigar, or both,” said Ramona. “I’m sure he would be pleased to discuss stars with you all!” She did indulge in a slight secret smile.
            So, then, in perfect fairytale style, the two cats paced in front, the huge Raven hopped and marched, and the humming bird helicoptered over her head as they traveled the well-worn path out to Ralph’s office, so to speak.
            In fact, Ralph was smoking a cigar and thinking, both. He was also composing a sort of power song, counting the beats with his toes. A note for each toe, or the other way around. He frowned, because you have to be careful to get these things right.
            When he heard them coming he looked up, and a great big grin spread over his face. This looked like it had potential for fun. Most things do look like that to Ralph.
            “Hey, everybody! Man, you guys look good together! What’s up?” said Ralph. “I’m all ears!”
            Bob hopped up on the huge cedar log on his left side. Berry did the same on his right side. It looked epic!
            Maeve went to her usual perch by his left ear, so he got her input nice and clear.
            Lars, the small being with the big question, hung in the air like a living jewel, right in front of Ralph’s broad face.
            “Here I am. Speak to me,” rumbled Ralph in his soft basso voice. If he had not been  revealed, it would have sounded like distant thunder, or movement underground somehow.
            It was too much for Lars. He began to faint.
            Ralph put out his hand and caught the little bird in midair. He breathed on him, maybe to warm him up. Maybe to give him courage.
            “Tell me,” he said.
            “Oh King,” said Lars, “I saw the night sky on a clear night. I crave understanding.”
            “You are wise for one so small and shiny,” kidded Ralph.
            “What is the nature of these numberless lights? Could they be little holes in the night sky letting just a bit of a greater light shine through? Or, are they their own lights, or stars, as everyone calls them.
            “What do they mean? Are they messengers? How can I regard them and not perish? Being a bird of clouds and fog and daytime light, I was not prepared,” said Lars.
            Ralph let the little bird fly free. He closed his eyes and just breathed deeply for a few moments. At last he smiled and opened his eyes again.
            “Yes, they are the ineffable, eternal handwriting of our Maker. They are a message, or many messages. They say he is there. The stars announce existence. Or maybe being.
            “They are a kind of pathway for your thoughts, always greater and greater.
            “But no need to perish! Fear not!” Ralph smiled.
            “The same power that cast those lights across the deep sky loves you and wishes you to live and keep being shiny! You’re actually pretty important!”
            “I don’t feel important, sir,” said Lars.
            “That’s normal, don’t worry about it,” said Ralph, with an encouraging giggle.
            “Hey, lets all go see Ramona and get you a bite of honey. I know you guys use up your onboard energy pretty quickly.”
            So, Ralph hopped down to the ground and headed back to Ramona, with a puma on each side, Maeve flying before, and Lars the humming bird staying right near his head.
            When Ramona looked up from her work, she was not one bit surprised at the sight.
            Then when Ralph explained the situation, she mixed a bit of honey with a drop or two of water and put the bit of liquid on a leaf for Lars, who drank it down and then hummed off to wherever humming birds go when they’re not in a story.
            Later Bob told the story to Twigg and Cherry, who had never seen a humming bird before and had missed the whole thing.