One Day Very Early in Spring

 

On location at Ralph's favorite fishing spot.

🌳🦈🌲

            The weather was changing up in the great forest. The days were getting a little longer bit by bit. The snow was just about gone except further uphill, where it never goes away entirely.
            Many aerial courtships were being conducted among the feathered souls. Life was beginning again among the land borne also. It was that time of year!
            Hungry black bears woke and got busy foraging.
            Cherry was working on being three years old soon. Even among daughters who stay strictly on the earth, it’s a busy time of life.
            But besides the ability to go airborne when she felt like it, Cherry had discovered another ability. She could call animals. They would come to her if she called them, in case she wanted to play with a rabbit, or a mountain beaver. Or a wild turkey.
            Even though these were not what Lewis called talking animals, IIRC, Cherry could talk with them. In fact, they did unburden their hearts to her somehow.
            You may perhaps picture her there, just outside the main Home Clearing, holding court in a sense. If anything, she had become lighter in color as she grew older. Her locks were that color treasured by bottle blonds everywhere. Pure shining platinum. She almost glowed when in shadow. Her eyes were blue, and she was a little chubby.
            Twigg and the cats were on a greater adventure of some kind, leaving Cherry to her own resources. Ramona was doing something that required her moving in and out of the cave. Ralph was fishing or something.
            No one had eyes on Cherry.
            She wandered among the huckleberry bushes and Oregon grape before settling down to sit on a small bit of deadfall of some kind.
            “Rabbit children, come and play,” said Cherry. Two of last year’s Cottontails came hesitantly forward. When they set eyes on her, they relaxed and smiled bunny smiles, because, like Ralph, she had that way of reassuring creatures just by her presence.
            “Let’s see if coyote wants to play,” said Cherry. Coyote came also. Now, you might worry that he would eat the rabbits. But that sort of thing didn’t happen in Cherry’s presence.
            “I’m going to the river, you can come too,” she said, and they followed her, two rabbits and a yearling coyote pup. She was thinking that maybe she would find her father down by the river, fishing. Or maybe they would just splash around right on the edge of the water. It was a pleasant walk.
            But facing Cherry in the path, blocking the way, was a strange animal. He was dark and shaggy. He had small horns and a long beard. His eyes were hard and obscure. His voice was loud and unpleasant. He frightened her playmates away. She faced him alone.
            “So, Cherry, why have you called me?” said the goat.
            “Did not call you,” said she, stalwartly.  He faded a bit. He also shrank down to about half his previous size.
            “Call me back, I have gifts and treasures,” pled the goat. All that was visible of him then were his yellow eyes in the forest dimness.
            “Go away,” said Cherry. So, he vanished. This was not lost on Cherry, she would remember.
            The next moment, Cherry heard Ramona calling her, so she turned around and went to her mother.
            “Hi, mommy,” said Cherry. “I was playing with rabbits and a coyote.”
            “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” queried Ramona with a smile at the little shining soul.
            “Yes, mommy,” said Cherry and the day continued in its normal way.
            Ramona built up her fire, because evening would be coming, and it would be chilly. Twigg and Bob and Berry came back from following Ralph around.
            Ralph showed up dripping wet with a sapling strung through a bunch of fish’s gills.
            They all gathered around the fire to watch Ramona clean and cook the fish on her big flat sheet pan.
            Ralph held little Cherry on his lap and helped her with her fish dinner because she was still very young and needed a little help.

What Kind of Love is This?

 

Ahavah (אַהֲבָה)

 
            For some deeply internal reason, the word has been in my mind day and night for several days. When I awaken, I say it. “Ahavah.” Also, as I am drifting off to sleep, I am tasting the word in my mouth. I began to get curious about this phenomenon.
            So, in looking it up, I found that almost all search engine references were to a cosmetic company in Israel using Dead Sea minerals to make their products. Not what I was looking for, though I am sure it’s very good stuff.
 

I Give, Therefore I Love

            Since it is a Hebrew word, I naturally ended up at Chabad.org, to check out the official meaning.

The Jewish tradition has a lot to say about love. Love of G‑d, love of one’s neighbor, love of the stranger and the dispossessed, love of oneself, and of course, romantic love.
 
As different as these loves may be, they are all called by the same name, alerting us to the fact that love is multifaceted and complex, not just the stuff of fairy tales or happy endings of Hollywood.
 
The Hebrew word for love is ahavah, which is rooted in the more molecular word hav,1 which means to give, revealing that, according to Judaism, giving is at the root of love.

The article is worth reading.
 
It’s interesting that Greek divides all the loves up and gives them different words. Then there is English. We have lots of words too.
 
            All of this led me back around to John 14, in which Jesus says:

21 He that hath my commandments, and keepeth them, he it is that loveth me: and he that loveth me shall be loved of my Father, and I will love him, and will manifest myself to him.

          So, also interestingly, behavior leads feelings of love. In a way that is very merciful, because in a way, it’s more doable that trying to feel something. We can act out of obedience, promise, or maybe duty. Then, the feelings come along behind.  That’s neat.
            Why has this word visited me? Perhaps I am being instructed to keep on keeping on, not to grow weary. 

Once Upon A Time

 

          One time there was a music promoter. He was not great. Nor was he well known. For the record, his name was Mitchell Kernwald. He was often called M.K., and he liked it that way. Crisp and direct, he thought.

            He loved the music. But he was not a musician. It was all magic to him. A magic which he served as he could and still made enough for a man to live on.
            He was not a joyful man. Not when we first meet him, but he was dedicated. It’s funny/odd when a person stops to think of the literal meaning of dedicated. It doesn’t just mean he spent most of his time dealing with the music, it means set apart or consecrated to a principle or purpose nowadays, or in his case, to the music. At one time it would have meant kept separate for service to a deity.
            He had some business to conduct in a smallish western city, near the coast of a body of water known as a sound. This city was rather near a mountain range. Now, M.K. was from southern California and he was curious about the great forests of the northwestern states. He had never seen them in person. A desire to visit the mighty forest was born in his heart, as he stood in a third story hotel window which faced eastward, toward the mountains and the sunrise. In fact, it rose in his heart like a sort of sunrise.
            Mitchell had flown into the local small airport, a great convenience actually. Then he had taken a cab down to Enterprise and rented a smallish sedan. So, he had wheels at his command. It was a completely standard silver thing.
            The next day was a Sunday. Spring was on the way, and he didn’t feel like flying home yet. No one waited there for him. Not even a cat. He was free to come and go as he wished, if  he wished.
            Just as the sun was rising the next morning, he left his things in the hotel room and went downstairs and out of the lobby to find his ride on the main street through the middle of town. It was odd to him that they didn’t have their own parking lot, but maybe they weren’t that busy.
            He didn’t take a map, but he had his iPhone if he needed help. He felt like just going uphill and seeing what was there.
            There was a two lane highway heading straight east, into the light. He went that way. There wasn’t a lot of traffic. At last, there was a smaller paved road heading northeast. That one looked inviting, so he turned up there. He slowed to about thirty mph and opened the window on the driver’s side just to smell the damp woodsy air.
            Eventually he came to a dirt road on the left side of the pavement. It was a forest road. One of those travel at your own risk unposted things. He made that left hand turn.
            He was on Green Mountain, though he didn’t know it. It was a pretty steep climb, but he kept at it until he found a wide spot where he could park out of the way.
            It was midmorning. The temperature in the lower forties felt cold to his California skin, but he had worn his jacket, so he was OK. There were birds, birds that he couldn’t identify. It was early in the year, but there were some insects, sleepy insects. No flowers yet, so no bees. He wondered if there were bears about. Or deer, or cougars.
            He walked uphill, into the massive Douglas firs. He had flown over Oregon and Northern California, so he had seen the forests from the air, but he had never walked among trees like this. They created their own atmosphere. Among the trunks and underbrush there was a hush almost like being indoors in a cathedral or some other huge body of enclosed air.
            The further he climbed the more mythical the place became. He forgot the rental car, he forgot why he was on this coast, he forgot his prosaic home apartment in hot dry California. He struggled to go higher. At last he was tired and looked about for a place to sit for a rest.
            Ah, there was a fallen tree. Some terrific storm must have taken it over. The root ball pulled up a great chunk of forest earth. So he sat next to the lower end and just looked around himself.
            A very large raven landed on the fallen tree and looked him over, then took off again. He had never been so near a raven before and he was quite enchanted.
            He heard singing! But what singing! It almost stood his hair on end, so unearthly it sounded, but beautifully.      
            Mitchell Kernwald wept. He wept out his barren broken heart. He wept for the beauty of the singing, like some crashing choir of angels. It was both thunder and high sweetness.
            He began to sing with the voices he heard. How could he, not knowing the words they sang? Well, that is just one of the mysteries of this story.
            A Forest Man saw him sitting there. The man he saw was slight, nearly six feet tall, tanned with black hair and in his forties. He was dressed all in fashionable informal clothing, browns and blues and he wore New Balance runners. His eyes were closed, and he was singing.
            Of course, we know who it was who saw him there.
            Ralph sat down beside Mitchell and just waited. While he waited he began to sing also, in his voice so deep that it sounds like a force of nature.
            At last the chorus faded out and M.K. opened his eyes and beheld Ralph sitting beside him. He was delighted. He began laughing, it was so marvelous to see such a being sitting right beside himself.
            “Who was singing?” said Mitchell.
            “Well, me, and my family, and the others scattered throughout the forest,” said Ralph, “we sing together sometimes. I think it was for you this time.
            “It was a song for the healing of broken hearts,” continued Ralph.
            “How can I thank you,” asked our music promoter quite seriously, because he felt reborn.
            “Well, as they used to like to say, just go on your way rejoicing, and being thankful,” said Ralph. “By the way, what’s your name? I find that if I keep a name in mind, it helps that person somehow.”
            So, they made their introductions to each other. Ralph went to join his family somewhere out among the trees. Mitchell walked back out of the deep forest and found his rental car. Then he drove it slowly back into the smallish city, to rejoin his life.
            And he did live happily ever after.

Brand Spanking New & Shiny!

🎇 2025🎇

Even the cats can feel it. Change is coming. Well, change is always coming. But still!

It was a green winter so far. No Christmas snow this year. In fact, it was wetter than usual. It doesn’t have much impact on the lives of house lions, but they do notice that the light is dim and stays the same all day until night falls.

Suzy was feeling a little foolish after being so easily panicked by her little buddy, Charley. She knew she should know better. She gazed out of her favorite window, focusing on the falling raindrops. A little sunshine would have felt good about then.

She felt like talking to Toots suddenly.

Suzy concentrated on her purring, getting it just right. Then, “hey, Toots, are you there? Doing anything that can’t wait?”

“Not so much, Suzy. How’s every little thing up in the wetlands?”

“Very very wet, Toots. I think I might grow moss, even in the house here. I’m just feeling chatty. Charley made a terrible fool of me last night.”

“I was just happy that she was speaking to me,” said Suzy. “She’s usually a little grumpy.”

“Oh, well. Good thing I wasn’t there. There might have been a hearty CatSlap™ if I could have caught the little stinker.

“More importantly, tonight is the last night of this year. It’s about to be folded and put away into the history file. Maybe we should do something to celebrate,” remarked Toots.

“It seems strange to me to celebrate the end of the year. Was it not a good year? Maybe we should be mourning its passing,” said Suzy. “I thought it was a good year, mostly.”

“I think it’s mostly in hopes that the next one will be even better,” admitted Toots.        

“You know, now that I think about it, I remember the excitement last year. How could I forget? I think part of the reason for so many fireworks is that we live too close to Boom City, out on the Res. It went on all night,” said Suzy. “I can’t explain Boom City, Toots. It’s just some kind of outdoor venue for buying fireworks. Sounds dangerous to me.”

“It’s so noisy, no wonder they stay up all night eating and drinking stuff and talking,” continued Suzy.

“I bet we could have a PurrParty,™ for the new year,” said Toots.

“You think so?” wondered Suzy.

“Yeah, we’ll send out one of those Six Degrees of Separation invitation broadcasts, and just see who we get!”

“Oh, we’ve never tried that!” said Suzy. “I’m excited!” But she was giggling too.

“OK. OK. We’ve got to have a reason for this party,” said Toots. “Like wishes for the new year! What do you want the most to happen in the next 365 days!”

“Yeah! That’s good!” said Suzy. “Let’s do it!”

So, they did! They sent out the call! Then they waited.

(Suzy could already hear explosions, and it wasn’t even 6PM yet!)

(Toots, thought she heard some too!)

Mr. Baby Sir must have heard the call first, because he wandered into the front room where Suzy was gazing into the reflection in the glass where she could just barely see Toots looking back at her.

“What was that all about?” Mr. Baby Sir said sleepily. “Somebody rang, man..”

“You’re supposed to come up with a wish for the new year!” crowed Suzy!

“Hm. I wish, she’d, just let me live my own life, man!” said Mr. Baby. “No more leash! Freedom! Isn’t that what life in America is supposed to be about?”

“Oh yes, of course. Come up here where you can see the glass. If we look sharply, we can see the other cats in it!” So he hopped up with Suzy.

In the glass they began to see a big tabby Tom cat. He seemed a little surprised, or maybe confused. He looked into his window where he could see the party gathering.

“Hi! Who are you?” said Toots and Suzy as one.

“He calls me Buddy,” said Buddy. “Why are we having this meeting?”

“It’s a New Year’s Party,” said Suzy. “You’re supposed to give your wish for the new year!”

“Well, for myself, I just wish that old Skinnies would stop calling me a marshmallow and a big wimp! What he doesn’t know is that I am the Home Guardian! While he is out bludging lunch or chatting up the ladies, I am here, at my duty station! He and She depend on me, whether they know it or not!” Then he kind of hung around to see who else appeared.

Next, Sammie stuck her head into the vibe, and they asked her what her wish for the next year was. Now, Sammie is a thinker, so she thought for a few minutes. Then, she said, “I wish cats everywhere were as well cared for and well loved as we are here! That’s the best wish I can think of right now.” No one could imagine anything better than that wish!

Then Willie heard the calling. He knew about the reflection in the window thing, so he  hopped up there too. He had also heard the others talking about their wishes for the new year, and he had been thinking and preparing his answer.

“I wish that our people, those big sillies who love us, would have a safe and healthy year next year. I wish that they would grow a year younger, and that all their lab results would be perfect!” pronounced Willie seriously. There were many purrs and meows of agreement.

“Oh, I wish that I had thought of that,” said Winchester, suddenly appearing in the glass. “That’s just plain wonderful and kind. I also wish that Gravy would stop sitting on me!”

“Welcome, who are you?” said Toots, since she didn’t know. “Whose cat are you?”

“She calls me Winny, ma’am. I am the head cat at the granddaughter’s house. Gravy is my very fat housemate!"

“New cats are always welcome to the PurrParty™!” said Toots. Winny thanked her graciously.

A few others heard the call and chimed in. Quite a crowd actually.  But, finally, cats started to get sleepy, in spite of fireworks and loud booms, and they began to wander off. But, it seemed to Suzy and Toots, those party planners, that they hadn’t heard from someone quite close to home yet. It was Charley of course. They hadn’t heard a peep out of Charley.

So, Suzy and Willie went looking for her, just to make sure she was OK.

They found her sleeping on the first step of the basement stairs, curled up like a little black and white lump.

“Hey, Charley, wake up! Tell us your wish for the new year! You missed the PurrParty™!” said Willie.

“Oh,” said Charley. “Um. How about this!? I wish that everyone else’s wishes for the new year would all come true!”

“Good job, Charley!” They both told her, then let her go back to sleep.

Then they wandered off to the back porch where they could see if there were any fireworks in their own alley or in the sky overhead.

 

Happy New Year!

!*2025*!

Mrrrt!

Are you ready?  lol!