Let's Blow This Hamburger Stand!

         

              “Hey, Toots,” said Suzie one day, gazing into the dark glass of the back door.
            “Yeah, Suzie, what’s up?” said Toots from her perch at the window.
            “You wanna blow this hamburger stand?” mrrred Suzie.
            “Now what are you talking about?” said mystified Toots, with a little wrinkle on her forehead.
            “I heard that somewhere. I think it means do you really want to get out of here, like go somewhere else, like?” said Suzie.
            “What’s gotten into you? You sound weird,” said Toots.
            “I’m tired of this planet. There are too many dogs here, and there are fleas!” huffed Suzie. “How about some place where there has never been a flea since the worlds began?”
            “Right now?” said Toots.
            “The Whole Shiny Mewniverse awaits!” exulted Suzie. Her little pointy-eared head was full of visions of planets, and stars, the sun, the moon, and vast reaches too.
            “There’s been a dog hanging around. I mean inside the house. Maybe if I go away, when I come back, he will be gone!” said Suzie. “Like real gone!” Unfortunately, she was in kind of a Beat groove.
            Toots was beginning to think that getting Suzie off planet for a while might be a good idea. “Like, to divert her!” She thought to herself.  Appalled, Toots began to realize that the Beat thing might be contagious.
            “Maybe we ought to, like, stay in our own star system,” said Toots. She shivered. This was a hard thing to not do.
            “I can dig it,” said Suzie, grinning to herself. “Let’s go where no dog has gone before!”
            “Amen, Sister,” said Toots, purring rambunctiously.
            In the twinkling of a kitten’s eye, the two little points of vision found themselves high above the surface of Earth, higher than the communication satellites ever venture. Earth looked so beautiful from up there, with a blue hazy light wrapping the whole surface.
            “I can’t see any dogs or fleas from up here,” said Toots. “It looks wonderful.”
            “Honestly, Toots, that worries me a little bit about the other planets. I mean, if we can’t see them from here on Earth, what does that tell you about the other planets?” said Suzie.
            “Nothing. It tells us nothing. We just have to go look,” said Toots.
            “Well, pick one, man, I mean Toots,” said Suzie.
            “I like that big one that looks like a cat sleeping!” said Toots.
            “Wild! Let’s go!” agreed Suzie. “What’s that cat’s name?”
            “Something like Nehhhkktune I think. I’m pretty sure that’s what my Gentleman called it!” said Toots.
            Before either could speak another word, they hovered over this huge, dim gassy looking orb. Winds were whipping by at a terrifying rate of speed.
            “Well, it did look furry from Earth,” said Toots. “But now it just looks like a big round windy ball!”
            “Let’s go down and look for land. We’re not really here, so the wind can’t get us!” said Suzie, though truthfully she was beginning to feel very Cautious™.
            “I guess we better look,” said Toots.
            Down through the gassy haze and the terrific winds they descended, to get a better look. As they dropped down, staying carefully together, it got darker and darker. They began to perceive the massive weight of this gassy ball.
            “I don’t think anything could live here, Suzie, not even fleas,” said Toots.
            “And who would they bite?” said Suzie. “Not even dogs could live here. What would they eat? And where would they run around and bark? There is no there here, Toots!”
            “I’m not tired of Earth anymore, Toots,” said Suzie. “I want to go home!”
            Coming back up through the dark haze, until they were free of all that fierce wind and dim light, and at last into open space, the girls could see Earth shining in the far distance. It was as blue as a perfect jewel.
            “I think we did find a place where no dog or flea has ever lived, but what a bummer, man,” said Toots.
            “Why are you talking funny?” said Suzie.
            “You started it!” said Toots. “Oh, let’s just go home and Purrmitate™. There must be a lesson somewhere in this.”
            And just like that, Toots was back at her window, looking around for Sammie, and very happy to be home.
            Just as instantly, Suzie found herself at her usual spot on the back porch. She could hear the Scouts rattling around nearby. She was pleased to observe that the dog was indeed gone.
            “Real gone!” she thought to herself, and giggled, cat style.

 🌎

Why Is Ramona So Unflappably Serene?

 

            I think that if you asked her, she would say that her mother told her, and she has told Cherry, that counting your blessings really works. Just that process has a way of diminishing the other stuff. It’s practically mystical.
            If I asked her, she would probably tell me that her greatest blessing is Ralph. Of course. She knows as well as she knows that the sky is up, that she can rest in his constant good humor, and absolute good intentions. She orbits him like a planet does the sun, and that sun is always facing her with a smile.
            Wisdom is its own reward. She is wise, in that she understands her position in Creation. She doesn’t wish she was someone else. She doesn’t want more than she has. She does her best with what life has given her.
            This of course, comes back to a grateful heart. A grateful heart is so massively constructive that it’s hard to adequately express it.
            Ah, but like all of us, she’s human. She’s not some phony plaster saint.
            You remember the time she took a rock to the drone with a camera on it? The girl  has some spunk!
            Remember the time she wanted Thaga to make her a dress? She had to let that go, and it was hard for her.
            That’s all, just a thought for Catfurday. I wanted to take a minute to appreciate Ramona.
            Ralph didn’t put me up to this, but he agrees with every word! In fact, he told me so.

💌

I Know Your Name

 

            It was a high point in the breathless arc of a summer day in the Great Forest. Noon.
            Cherry had learned a thing or two from her friends, the Puma Bros. One of these things was to find a leafy spot underneath the local underbrush, where it is was cooler than the surrounding forest, and to rest there, in seclusion. Many times they had all three shared such a retreat. The cats crouched as cats do, golden eyes closed, panting.
            Cherry sat alone this time, on the forest floor, legs crossed in what they used to call Indian Style. On this particular summer day, she held court among the small creatures of the forest. She had the gift of speaking to the animals. Sometimes a few mice would come to  her with a tiny dispute, and she would help then sort it out for she had their confidence. Even insects would fly near her, and they would speak together about their lives, hers and theirs. She had the heartfelt respect of the dragon flies, other flies, mosquitoes even, and if truth be told, even fleas respected her. No flea had the temerity to bite Cherry!
            Many times small brown rabbits and their children stopped by, mostly to pay their respects. Rabbits are very adept at living their own lives successfully.
            So, once again, it was a typical day hidden away in the leafy undergrowth where enough sunlight reaches the ground to encourage bushy growth. A fisher cat had come and gone, staying just long enough to announce the progress of her kits.
            Cherry could hear an unfamiliar sound. A sort of low sad squeaking. She hadn’t heard anything like that before. It came closer as the moments went on and she listened silently. She heard light footsteps, and a sort of dragging sound maybe, like there were two creatures coming, but one of them wasn’t walking correctly.
            She waited, hands on knees, icy blue eyes looking in the direction of the strange whimpering cries and the footsteps.
            At last, a yellowish doglike animal appeared. He was not alone. He was accompanied by a much smaller version of himself. The small one didn’t really seem to walk along, he had to be nudged and dragged too, and his eyes were closed. The whimpering sound came from the small one.
            “Cherry!” said the father, for such he was. “I know your name!”
            “I know your name too, Jumpstart,” said Cherry in return greeting.
            “Have you brought me one of your children, Jumpstart?” she asked, formally.
            “My son, Cherry,” answered Jumpstart.
            “Tell me his name?” said she.
            “His mother called him Darkness, because he neither sees, nor speaks, or walks either, and yet as you see, he lives, but in darkness,” said Jumpstart, with his son huddled between his forelegs.
            “Yes. I think I will give him a new name. Are you willing to let me name him,” said Cherry. “That would be a good start.”
            “I know you, and yes, I trust you. Name my son,” said Jumpstart with a Coyote tear on his cheek.
            Cherry looked deeply into the young thing’s heart. She waited and listened for an answer. At last a name came to her.
            “His name shall be Sky, Jumpstart. Do you agree?” said Cherry.
            “I agree, yes,” said Jumpstart, and from that moment his son became Sky.
            “Sky” said Cherry, “open your eyes.”
            For the first time in his life, Sky opened his small brown eyes.
            “What do you see?” said Cherry.
            “I see my father. And I see you, Lady,” said the child, who had left off whimpering, in order to speak. “I see the forest all around me!”
            “Will you walk to me?” Cherry asked him, and he willingly trotted right over to where she sat. Then he sat as all canids do, looking all around himself, panting with his little pink tongue lolling as all canid tongues do.
            “Sky, will you do as your father does? Will you obey your mother? Will you do all things as a Coyote should from today?” Cherry asked Sky, formally.
            “I will do all as my father does,” Sky said. “I will obey my mother, yes. I will do all things as a Coyote should!”
            “I know you will,” said Cherry. She couldn’t help smiling.
            “Take him to his Mama, Jumpstart,” said Cherry. “I was very pleased to meet him!”
            “Yes, Lady Cherry, I will,” said Jumpstart. And with that, Jumpstart and Sky trotted away home.
            As Cherry rested her eyes for a little while, a small wind came from playing over the Silver River, to toss the leaves surrounding her. He stayed as long as she rested, then went on his way.
            When her eyes opened again, she thought of her mother, Ramona, and went to find her. Like every other day, she lived under Ramona’s teaching, desiring to be like her in every way.
            When she found her mother, Ramona said, “I think we should all go play in the river. Today is extra warm!”
            Ralph, who had been kind of snoozing in the heat agreed, so they all went over to the river to play until the sun had nearly set. While they were there, he gathered some fish, for an easy, quick dinner.

🐟

Wishing You A Grand June Purrsday

 

Somewhere in Montana, June 30, 2016.

My girl took the shot, I am sure, as my hands were on the wheel.

Such glory!

And I know, from personal experience, that most of the country

is open and wild!

I find that comforting.

A lovely day to you!

💮

The Conversation, A Sketch of A Dream

 

 

            Marcus sat alone at table. The Mediterranean morning light flooded the large quiet room. There was a second chair at the table, empty now. Until a moment before his wife, Julia, had been seated there. This was not a breakfast seating; it had been a difficult conversation.
            He sighed.
            Julia had gone to sit in the garden, out of the direct sunlight, with some of her women. He could hear women’s voices like birdcalls through the open window.
            He was no longer young. His hair was graying, and he bore the scars of battle. If authority wore a face, it might have looked much like Marcus.
            Marcus shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and thought about the slave. He had purchased her when she was a middling child. She came with some outlandish foreign name. Marcus called her Melum, a small sweet thing.
            Melum had grown up under his roof, serving Julia and himself in the house. If one of them wanted something from the kitchen, she ran for it. Her work was the many small things required in a great house, the little jobs of running and fetching. She waited at their table evenings, and brought things to the bedroom if one of them woke and was thirsty, or the light had gone out. Melum was always about like a pet bird. She was beautiful, adding to the dignity of the house she served.
            Marcus was fond of Melum. Now she had a child. He had watched her as her body changed and said nothing. Julia watched her too, and said nothing. Nothing needed to be said.
            He had no other children. But he hadn’t made his mind up about the fate of this one. A boy. A son. It rang in his mind like thunder.
            He had sent one of the house boys to her room. He wanted to see the infant before he decided whether to acknowledge his paternity, or to merely raise the child as a slave among many slaves.
            Silently, on small bare feet, carrying her son, Melum entered the brightly lit room, such a rich and beautiful room, with colorful frescoes on the walls, and mosaics exhibiting exotic marine motifs under her little feet. Her hair was a light wheaten color, her eyes were blue, and she wore the simple gown of a female slave. She wore no adornments.
            She walked to her usual spot beside the table and stood waiting, silently.
            “No. Sit down, Melum,” he said.
            Carefully she lowered herself into Julia’s chair.
            “Is he well? Is he strong?” said Marcus. “Are you well?”
            “He is well, as am I,” said Melum in a voice like the embodiment of fragrance.
            “If I say he is mine, he will become a great man in my name,” said Marcus.
            “Yes,” and she trembled.
            “Bring him to me,” he said finally.
            Carefully, she rose and walked around to the other side of the table. Marcus held out his hands to receive the newborn boy.
            Melum passed her son over. Marcus took him in his hands, as a man does who is not accustomed to infants. His left hand was under the child’s head, and his right hand supported the body.
            “Does he wake and cry out much?” he asked her.
            “Not much, Sir, only when he is hungry,” she said.
            “Well, he is a manchild,” said Marcus.
            Then the child opened his eyes and focused on his father’s eyes. A long moment passed between them. Marcus began thinking of a name for this child.
            “Melum, take my son, go and raise him well! Be at peace,” said Marcus.
            She left him then, on lighter steps, carrying the newborn son of the house back to her own room.
            Marcus had a lot of things to arrange, and he needed his lawyer for all of that.

☀️

The Voice From Inside The Fridge

 

For display purposes only!

            “Why?” I said. He was in there again. Only takes a second’s lapse in vigilance. It was Sweetie, of course. Though, I have seen Booker follow him in before.
            “What’s the compelling attraction, Mr. Cat?” says I.
            The voice answers, “Prrrrrr..”
            “Not talking? Nobody, not even a young cat does things for no reason.” I urged.
            “You can’t see me now!” he said, with satisfaction. “Nothing will ever make me come out! I rule here, on the steaks.”
            “That’s called 'hubris,' Youngster,” says I. 
            “It will take more than name calling to get me to come out, Ma,” the voice continued.
            “Exaggerated pride, or self-confidence. IOW arrogance! How does that sound? Do you want to be like that?” I said, pedantically.
            “All hidey-holes are mine, by right of conquest,” said the voice.
            “You’re sitting on my steaks,” I said, “Good thing they’re shrink-wrapped, eh?”
            “Right of conquest!” he chortled.
            “Baloney!” I yelped.
            “Do you have some?” he asked, looking up through the shelves. There was a lot of purring and fidgeting around. (Shrink-wrap is really a good thing, you know?)
            “I hear your brother calling you!” I said.
            “Nuh-uh!” and he crept further back. “I’m making room for him.”
            What could I do, but get out the big guns, the sound no cat can withstand? Yes. The Temptations container. I rattled it.
            He popped right out. Booker came running. Mr. Baby swarmed aboard too. Soon we were having a great old time with cat treats. What do they put in that stuff, that is so desirable? It looks pretty much like cat kibble. (I need to look up the etymology of ‘kibble.’) Suzie doesn’t like Temptations. She says they make her rhumatize kick up. Doubtful.
            They all wish all the other cats a Merry Tootsday, most of all Toots, herself!

🐈‍⬛

kibble(n.)

"ground-up meat used as dog food, etc.," 1957, apparently from the verb meaning "to bruise or grind coarsely," which is attested from 1790, first in milling; a word of unknown origin. The same or an identical word was used in the coal trade in the late 19c. and in mining from the 1670s for "bucket used to haul up ore or waste."

A Message In The Great Forest

 

 

            Cherry was getting to be a bigger girl. She was growing in wisdom and knowledge, and was a great observer of all about herself. She was taller than a human child, of course. and was still platinum blond all over with icy, pale blue eyes. When grown, she would be a beauty of the Forest Folk.
            Ramona had been doing a good job with her, helping her to remember the Firekeeper’s songs, which were essentially practical recipes set to a tune, to help memory. In fact, she had to have a very good memory, and she did. They don’t make books in the Great Forest. They remember, and pass it down.
            In addition, Cherry was very good with her hands. When she wasn’t assisting her mother, she was making things. Naturally, the materials she had to work with were natural things from her home environment. Sticks, rocks, vines, leaves, flowers, feathers, fur, even small bones, berries in season, that sort of stuff.
            This particular year she was making crowns or necklaces of vines, with flowers, woven and maybe some extra leaves to fill them out. She used salal a lot because it’s strong and doesn’t wilt. She liked fireweed when it was in season because it  had a good long stalk and was colorful. Later in the year there would be colored leaves, and she was looking forward to them.
            She made leafy crowns for her mother, and a big wreath for Ralph who obediently wore it around his neck. She wove them for Blue, and the Puma Bros, and wore one herself too. Hers had a big white daisy right in the middle above her eyes.
            She made a small house of sapling branches, and hoped the B’s would use it, but though some of the B’s good-naturedly visited it, just to make her happy, they couldn’t really use it.
            “It’s very pretty,” said a Bertha. “Thank you for thinking of us, Twigg’s Sister!”
            Then she gathered some small sticks about the size of pencils. She laid them out on the ground and looked at them, trying to think of something interesting to do with them. She began arranging them where they lay in various patterns. She was one of the Forest Folk, after all.
            Cherry kept coming back to a simple cross of two sticks. She wondered what could be done with that, even just to make it more stable. Maybe winding a vine through it, weaving around each of the four spokes, so to speak. So, that’s what she did, using a blackberry vine. The small thorns worked to keep it very sturdy. When she held it up, it was diamond shaped, which was surprising to her, she had sort of expected it to look square.
            Cherry was so pleased with her construction, that she took it to Ramona.
            “Look, Mama, I made this for you!” said Cherry.
            “Oh, Sweet Baby, it’s beautiful,” said Ramona. But it reminded her of something, something she had heard about long ago when she was a girl with her mother.
            “I’ve seen something like that a long time ago. But the winding was done with colored yarn. I’d like to show you, but we need Thaga’s help. Let’s just go see if she has some leftover yarn that we can use,” said Ramona.
            It was a pleasant summer stroll up and over the meadow and down the old path to the stone cabin, home of Thaga and Ooog. Ramona knocked, and Thaga asked them in, naturally.
            Ramona showed Thaga the interesting thing which Cherry had made.
            “Nice!” said Thaga.
            “I’ve seen something like this, but made with colored yarn. My mother had one. It was a gift passed down from her mother. I wonder if you have some bits of leftover yarn. The colors don’t matter except that we need some blue, for the eye!” said Ramona.
            Thaga went to her fabric closet and brought out her basket of leftover yarns.
            “Cherry, you may have them all!” said Thaga.
            There was a nice little ball of the blue that Thaga had used to knit her own blue sweater which she wore all the time. She put the leftover yarn in a cloth shopping bag, but kept her basket for when she had bits of leftover yarn again.
            Cherry said, “Thank you, Thaga. It’s all so pretty!”
            “It couldn’t go to a better person,” said Thaga happily.
            At home, near the Fire Circle, all during the afternoon, Ramona and Cherry worked. First Ramona showed her how to wind the yarn starting with the blue at the center, around each crossbar. Then she added other colors in stripes until most of the length of the crossbars was filled up with colored yarn in diamond shaped stripes.
            “My mother said that her mother said that the Native woman who gave to her said that the blue in the middle was supposed to make you think of the Maker of All and that he is watching all we do. This lady also said they put them in places where they would be seen, all along the paths that people walked on every day,” Ramona said to Cherry.
            “Now, you do one,” she said.
            Cherry did, and it was almost as tight and neat as Ramona’s. There was a lot of yarn in the bag, so she gathered more straight little sticks and over that day and evening and the next morning, Cherry made a couple dozen more of the Eyes. She made sure that there was a nice little loop on each one so that she could hang them on bushes at eye level.
            That next afternoon, Cherry hung them all over the area, near the Home Clearing, out on the meadow, and along the river.
            As she was finishing up, Maeve drifted down out of the sky, silently. She had noticed the unusual activity, and the colorful objects themselves.
            “Cherry, Sweetie, whatever are you up to?” said Maeve. She had plopped down beside Cherry on the riverbank.
            “These are reminders. I made them,” said the child.
            “They are very pretty. What should they remind us of,” said Maeve, though she had an idea.
            “They mean that the Maker of All is watching. Mama showed me how to do them, and Thaga gave me her yarn!” said Cherry.
            “Ah, very good, Little One. To be watched over by Love is a very fine thing!” said the wise old Raven.
            “Love?” said Cherry.
            “Yes, dear, Love,” said Maeve. “Now, let’s go on down to the Clearing. It’s time.”

💮

He Had Been A Little Evasive

 

On location.

            “You know, the other day I didn’t quite tell the whole story,” said Ralph one day to his friend, counselor, and confidant, Maeve.
            “You surprise me, Boss!” said Maeve. “I’m sure you had a good reason.”
            “I like to think so, Black Leg," Ralph sighed.
            “What story was it?” said she.
            “Oh, you know, I was chatting with my biographer the other day, and she asked me a complicated question. She wanted to know if I really do that thing with bent and twisted branches and repositioned trees, like they show on the videos,” said he.
            “Why is it complicated?” asked Maeve, seated comfortably on his shoulder.
            “Because I, we Forest Keepers, do that, yes, but the investigators always get it wrong.”
            “I’ve seen you do it. You talked a bunch of alder trees into making a house of themselves,” said Maeve.
            “Yeah, but see, there was a good practical reason for that. It wasn’t woo in the slightest,” said Ralph.
            “Some of them do have woo on the brain. Some of them wouldn’t know a woo if it smacked them upside the head,” said Maeve. She was kind of sorting through her feathers at the same time. The talk of fleas had made her itch if she thought about them at all.
            “They don’t know a thing about the songs. That’s one of their weak spots. If you don’t sing those things into place, they just break or die,” continued Ralph. “So when I said it was like a kid’s game, or a competition, well it just wasn’t the whole story. It’s a language done in a song. The bending and twisting are only part of it.”
            A little breeze came through, pausing to listen to Ralph and Maeve for a moment. Then it blew on down toward the Sound.
            “That feels nice, on these hot days,” remarked Maeve, settling her feathers.
            They happened to be sitting by the silver river. Ralph was going to gather some fish for Ramona in a little while. He had her five gallon bucket handy.
            “See, in my case, it was a game, or maybe a prank. But to explain that prank would have turned the whole subject into a joke,” said Ralph.
            “What did you do!” said Maeve.
            “I’m sure you know that Bob and I are cousins, right? Our mothers were sisters. We were raised like brothers, in the same family. Pod, clan, whatever. Bob is younger, so he followed me around doing whatever I said to do.”
            “Ah,” said Maeve.
            “One day I got a grand idea. We were like maybe ten years old. Not babies, little kids, or quite young adults. An inventive age.
            “You wouldn’t be trying something out on the adults, of course,” said Maeve.
            “Actually, that’s exactly it,” said Ralph.
            “I got Bob to help me make about two hundred twig location glyphs. That’s the word the investigators use. I may as well use it. Then we went all through the forest installing these things where everyone would see them. We knew where the families lived of course. We covered valleys and mountain sides.
            “This is what they don’t know, we sang the song of You Must Come over them, with the added message You Must Bring Something Eat. That was a lot of singing, and it had to include when.”
            “Where was this party?” said Maeve.
            “It was more like a calling of the clans, serious business, except it wasn’t. It was monkey business. It did turn into a party, after nobody could figure out who was in charge,” giggled Ralph.
            “Where?” said Maeve.
            “Oso. On that hillside that slid into the river years later. Maeve, I think half the Forest Keepers, kids, moms, grampas and all, in Snohomish County showed up that night. Bob and I came with the rest of them, with our parents and sibs, just as good and sweet as little lambs,” said Ralph.             “No one ever knew, officially, who had called the meeting which turned out to be the biggest gathering of Forest Keepers ever known.
            “However, my father, who had no sense of humor in his whole body, caught up with me the next day. He said my fingerprints were all over this, and not to mock the people ever again. Well, ouch. I didn’t think of it that way, but it was kinda that way.”
            “Do you think Bob tattled on you?” said Maeve.
            “No. Bob wasn’t made that way. My father just untied the knot on his own,” sighed Ralph.
            “You were born to be a leader, Boss,” chuckled Maeve.
            “I guess so,” said Ralph.
            Then he waded out about waist deep into the river with the bucket. He held it down under the surface, so it was convenient for the trout to jump in the bucket. When a couple of dozen had shoved their way into the bucket, he waded back out of the river carrying it.
            “Let’s take these fish to Mona, Maeve,” he said.
            It was going to be a fish night.

🐟

Thinking of Thousands of Miles of Dirt Roads

 

            F'lineday was one of those days when the story box didn't even get opened to check on crumbs. I spent several hours on the not too mean, but very busy, streets of Seattle. I drove 99 both ways because I didn't feel like stop and go on the freeway.

            I was thinking about Sasha's article all day. The things she mentioned are things I think about too. I observe the working of my mind, and I do wonder what went into the making of it. I have also wondered where it is. I don't feel like it's living in my brain. Kind of funny. So where is it? 

            Of course I was thinking of consciousness being one. Hmmm.

            I snapped the photo somewhere in the American west. We didn't take proper notes, so I'm never sure. But it's one of those lonely dirt roads I love. Nobody out there but God, and maybe some cows, and of course us. 

            It seems to me that driving these long distances rewards the driver with a depth of perception that doesn't happen just puddling around town. I love it, the mighty sweep of the American continent!

            I wish you a profoundly great and peaceful day!

💚

            

Joyous Configuration! Open Thread for June 12, 2026

 I have nothing to add, really!

Happiest of F'linedays to you!

Love, P

💮

It Was A Hot Summer Day in The Great Forest

 

Uncle Bob's dream house. Still a dream!

            Strangely, there are some very hot days in the summer in the Great Forest. It sounds hot, before it feels hot. It’s like you can hear the forest floor baking. Insects make lazy little doppler effects, as they come near, then fade away. There is a resinous odor in the air, once the sun is up.
            Maurice had been doing some of the heavier jobs for Ooog, learning how a True Howler could also be a gardener. It was all new to him, this plant-based life. But he got into the slow pace of it, learning what garden plants needed, and he learned how to supply those needs.
            While Maurice and Ooog gardened, Thaga got out some materials. She knew the outside of Maurice’s bag would have to be tough. It was going to be worn by Maurice, after all, and he was likely to be hard on it, if his history was anything to go by.
            She chose a piece of heavy tent fabric which had been lurking in her sewing closet for years. It was made to be used a lot and very tough. For lining she picked a piece of heavy red and black plaid flannel.
            At first she had been thinking of a cross-body bag, such as used by urban hikers, students and such. But then she started imagining Maurice getting it hung up on things as he went about his life in the forest, things like brush and branches. She realized that it needed to be closer to his body. So she designed one similar to what we could call a fanny pack, to be anchored to a belt at the waist. She decided to put some copper rivets at the stress points.
            In combination with her other duties in the house, building the Howler’s bag took three days. Finally, it was done. She showed him how it worked, cutting the belt to his size so there wouldn’t be any long hanging strap.
            His book, pen, and harmonica fit it perfectly.
            “It’s like a pocket, without the pants!” he told Thaga, prancing about.
            Maurice liked to wear the bag in front like a Scotsman’s sporran, so he had instant access to his treasures and could keep an eye on them.
            Thaga and Ooog had learned to love Maurice, and he them. Ooog said, “You can stay if you like, Maurice.” Thaga agreed.
            “Thanks,” he said. “That’s just about the best thing anyone ever said to me. I might be back. I like the garden. I didn’t know anything about plants before!”
            But he wanted to see Ralph, after all, that’s why he had returned to the Northwest. So, on that very hot bug-singing day, he trotted back down into the forest, heading for the Home Clearing.
            As Maurice trotted along, the sun beat down on his shaggy head, his tongue lolled and he panted, but he was really enjoying the secure feeling of having his things with him in their own pocket sans pants. There was a pleasant rhythmic flopping sound as he ran.
            “Look at you!” Ramona called when she saw Maurice. She was busy teaching Cherry the names of her ancestors as far back as she remembered them.
            “Pretty cool, huh? Is Ralph in the cave or up on his log, Firekeeper?” said Maurice. He unsnapped the bag to demonstrate its wonders, and snapped it back up.
            “Ralph isn’t here; he’s up in the meadow with Uncle Bob at the Stump House. You know Bob don’t you? I’m sure you’ve met. Why don’t you run up there and show off your new bag? They’d love it!” said Ramona. “It’s just perfect for you, Maurice!”
            “I’ll find them!” he said. Even if he hadn’t known where the Stump House was he could  have sniffed it out. Howlers have a tremendous sense of smell.
            But, to help himself along, he pulled out his harmonica and began composing a searching tune. It was quite audible for some distance.
            Up at the Stump, Uncle Bob heard the searching tune coming closer and closer.
            “Ralphie, do you hear the music? Is it magic, or is it real?” said Uncle Bob.
            “I bet that’s Maurice!” said Ralph, because he could hear the music too. “You remember Maurice? Of course you do, he’s been here before.”
            “It can be magic and real at the same time,” said Ralph.
            The music filled the air. Even Aunt Suzie was listening as it grew closer and louder.
            “It’s perfect!” whispered Uncle Bob, gazing into the middle distance. He sang in his light husky tenor.
           

When I saw you,

My heart just fell.

Like an apple dropped,

In a wishin' well.

 
            “Hey, everybody, Lookie what I’ve got!” sang Maurice in his growly Howler voice.
            “Thaga does great work!” said Ralph.
            “Neat tune!” said Uncle Bob, all starry eyed.
            “Thanks!” said Maurice, “I’m just now inventing it!”
            “I’m just now working on some words!” said Uncle Bob.
            “Maybe you two should get together!” said Ralph.
            “Yeah!” said Uncle Bob.
            “Let’s do it!” howled Maurice.
            “Just perfect!” sang Ralph is his soft massive basso voice.
            And so it was!

🎼

Fair Enough

 

            His mothername is unpronounceable for we humans, so we call him Ralph. He inherited the name from a certain raffish old dog. Dog was loved, so is he.
            Recently, he and I got together for a little interview over a cup of verbiage, served as it always is, right here. Both of us had a couple of questions to air.
            “Say hey, P, what are the rule here?” said Ralph.
            “No holds barred,” I said. “I just have a few technical questions. I have no idea what kind of questions you have!”
            “I’m not very technical. You know that,” said Ralph. “Do you mean practical?”
            “Maybe that’s better. I compare what I know about you and your life with the alleged Sasquatch doings on video. It brings up questions. Like, do you twist and break branches as a form of communication, or at all? I’ve never seen that mentioned in your activities.”
            “I used to. We all did. It started out as a game in the woods when we were kids, to see if we could like, um, reform branches and small trees without breaking them off. We wanted to change living trees. It was like an art form.
            “Eventually, it became a sort of contest between families to see whose trees looked the best. I think the video makers over interpret it. It’s mostly just fun or art,” said Ralph.
            “OK, makes sense. My younger brother and at least one of the sisters used to do a similar thing when we were kids.”
            “No kidding? That’s kinda sweet,” he said. “Did I know you when you were a kid? I remember some kids like that.”
            “You might have known me, but I didn’t know you. You know darn well I didn’t see you, if you were there,” said I.
            “Fair enough!” said Ralph, laughing one of his big deep laughs.
            “Now a question for you, how did you find out about me then,” he asked.
            “That’s hard to answer. Long ago when all the world was young, we heard of the Yeti. Thought it was folklore. Then there were rumors of a creature said to roam the forest, we and some Indians said ‘Skookum’ for this creature. Still thought it was probably Indian stories. Their form of literature, you see?
            “Years went by. We lived on the Res up north and heard a few things, but not much. More about Stick Indians than you guys. The locals did not relish the thought of Stick Indians. I think they were a sort of Wendigo or shapeshifter.
            “Long after that, I started putting down word, sputtering at first, rough stories. Then one day, you came to visit me in these words. You began to reveal yourself, and then you had a family and a whole life in the forests of the mountains which you called the Great Forest,” I said, finally.
            “Interesting. Maybe I was sorry for being so elusive back then when we were both kids,” he said. He crossed his legs, twiddled his toes, and reflected on them solemnly.
            I laughed. “No harm done, my dear friend!”
            “OK, another question. In the long run, do you think it was a good thing that Ramona cooks your food now, and how about learning to speak American English? Ralph, do you wish things had not changed that way for you? Would you like to go back if you could?” I asked him.
            “No, no! Even a Forest Keeper knows that learning is a good thing. It’s a matte of poise, keeping in balance. I mean we use some human skills to enhance our lives, but we don’t put on pants and go live in town. See the difference? We stay in the Forest. We are the Forest and the Forest is us! But you know that!” he said.
            “What is essential about you and yours?” I said.
            “We live in the present.”
            “That was quick!” I said. “Hard to do, for humans. We long for the past, or hate it, or we long for something coming that will be better, or we fear it. Interesting. I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to live utterly in the present.”
            “Ya gotta love it, “ he laughed. “Gratitude helps.”
            “So, Compiler, why haven’t you written much about Twigg and his family lately?”
            “Yeah, well, they haven’t revealed themselves to me very much,” I said, not too happily.
            “I get it, you don’t want to fake it,” he said.
            “That’s right. I’m just waiting,” I said.
            “Here’s a question for you,” I said. “Are you, as a species, from Earth? Or did you come from somewhere else?”
            “From Earth. We’re not fallen angels, or demons, or whatever they dream up. We’re a lot like you, but different. Aw, P, I don’t know everything about our source. Just the same as you. You have the old Book; we have our stories too. I think we’ve been here as long  as mankind, or maybe longer.
            “I’ll tell you another thing. Forest Giants, Squatches, whatever name they call us, have sinners among us. Just like you. Some are kind. Some do evil,” Ralph sighed. “Another thing, we have the same Maker.”
            “I believe that,” I said.
            “Before we break up this tete-a-tete, do you have any words of wisdom for humans?”
            “How about just chill out! Take care of each other like you mean it. Form follow function you know. Fake it until you make it? For pity’s sake stop throwing everything away for stupid imaginations! Money isn’t life! Life is life!” he said.
            “Personally, I think we, as a species, are awfully short-sighted for people who are always looking back or forward,” we both laughed.
            “Any word you’d like me to take back to the Forest?” he asked.
            “Hm. Carry on? Look out for poachers? Be wise? Let it be? I think you mostly have it covered,” I said. “But, really, just give my love to Ramona and Cherry, and the wolf and the cats.”
            “Will do,” he said.
            I heard his big soft laugh and then he was gone, and I was sitting here with my keyboard and a cup of coffee. 

            “Fair enough,” I thought.

💚

It's A Howler's Bag, Man!

 

 
            Another day rolled around, and another sleepover around the fire. Morning came and once more Ramona strolled out to start the day and wake the sleepers. It would be a soup morning. She had some onions and some leftover young buck roast, enough to make a pot of soup.
            Bob and Berry had returned from their quarantine in the meadow. You remember that Daisy Dust is toxic to cats. Thankfully, they seemed to have escaped infestation.
            Maurice sat up and said, “May I go in and get my book and my harmonica, Firekeeper?”
            “Of course,” said Ramona absently, while deciding how much fuel to put on the fire.
            Maurice came back out with his stuff. He wrote a few lines in his book. Then he laid it down and started playing some old Cream tunes. Train Time, definitely.
            Ralph woke, blinking and yawning. Cherry joined the party. Blue stretched and yawned then went back to sleep at Cherry’s feet.
            The music continued. Maurice was working out a little tune of his own, but he didn’t want to tell anybody that’s what he was doing. He just kept working on it. It got a little repetitive.
            Ramona put her soup ingredients into her large pot. Chopped venison, chopped onions, salt, garlic, and some greens she had laying around, and water of course. It would be plain, but good.
            When the soup was just about ready to serve, Maurice said, “May I put my stuff back up on the shelf?” to Ramona.
            “Of course,” said Ramona. A tiny gnat of annoyance ruffled her serenity. She shooed it away.
            After soup Maurice asked for permission to get his harmonica again.
            As she was dropping the bowls into her bucket of water for a quick rinse, Ramona thought she could see how this was going. It also felt like a rather busy morning. She gave it some thought, but didn’t say anything for a while.
            Then Maurice wanted to put his harmonica away again, because he and Ralph were going out to gather fuel. Ralph wore the big leather pack that Ooog had made for him. Ramona noted the backpack and its excellent practicality once more.
            A plan came to mind.
            Ramona whistled and waited. Soon Maeve appeared. She hadn’t been very far away, just far enough to be riding Ralph’s shoulder as he gathered wood.
            “I’m here, do you need me?” she asked Ramona.
            “Yes, Maeve. I believe I do! I wondered if you would go talk to Thaga. Ask her if I may come see her today. I have a question and will bring Maurice with me. Would you mind?” said Ramona.
            “Of course I will. What’s up? Is it a secret?” said Maeve.
            “There are no secrets from you, Madam Raven,” laughed Ramona. “I would like to ask Thaga to make Maurice a bag for his stuff, since he doesn’t wear pockets or pants anymore. He really needs a way to carry his book and harmonica around! He really does! Let me tell you!”
            “You got it,” said Maeve, who blasted off in a great theatrical flapping of black wings.
            Before Ralph and Maurice returned, Maeve was back with a message.
            “Thaga says to come on up. She will be expecting you,” said Maeve. She had a cup of the morning soup, since she hadn’t been there for breakfast.
            “Very good. That’s just what I thought she would say,” said Ramona.
            When the wood gatherers returned, Ramona said, “I have a plan.”
            “This is what I propose to do, Baby, and Maurice. Cherry and Maeve and Blue, and I, along with Maurice, will go up to see Thaga. She’s expecting us already.
            “Maurice, would you go get your things again and bring them along? I want her to see what you have and to design and make a bag for you!” announced Ramona.
            “Yes, Firekeeper,” yelped Maurice, running for the cave.
            Ralph winked, and kept stacking firewood.
            Ramona didn’t really need to bring everybody, but it seemed like fun, so she did. As it turned out, Ralph wanted to tag along, so he did. Bob and Berry had gone off hunting or fishing or something. They did their own thing a lot.
            So, it was a large party which arrived on the porch of the Neanderthal’s stone cabin. Ramona tapped lightly on the door and in a moment Thaga appeared, with Harold at her feet.
            “Come in, come in, everyone,” she said standing aside so that they could pass.
            “You know why we are here, dear Thaga. Our friend Maurice has a few things that he needs to keep with himself. He needs a bag.
            “We have come to you, for help,” said Ramona.
            “Of course, I will help. Let me see what this bag needs to hold,” said Thaga, getting right into the spirit of the venture.
            Maurice showed Thaga his few things. She nodded, and said, “I see!”
            “Thank you, Ma’am,” Maurice whispered, almost too excited to speak.
            “It will take me a while to make a nice bag with a soft lining, to protect your harmonica. I think that Maurice should stay with us here for a while. I’ll make a nice bag, and he can help Ooog in the garden. How about that? Good idea?” said Thaga.
            “We have plenty of room, and Thaga is a good cook,” urged Ooog, who had come in to see what was going on.
            “Yes, please,” said Maurice.
            “Wonderful,” said Thaga. “Sit yourselves down around the table! I have a big batch of cinnamon rolls just coming out of the over and I will make some coffee!”
            No one in their right minds would turn down such an offer, so they all did sit down at the big table and have a wonderful after breakfast snack.
            Maurice played some of his songs, just because it was such a festive day. Then, Ralph, with Maeve riding along, Ramona, Cherry and Blue, all said their goodbyes to Thaga, and Ooog, and Harold, and to Maurice, and they all trooped back down to the Home Clearing.
            Ramona was quite pleased with how her plan had gone.
            She and Cherry took the dishes from breakfast over to the river to scrub them and brought them back to dry, ready for the next meal.
            While they were gone, Ralph and Maeve had a nice chat about this and that when they heard a plaintive voice approaching.
            “Ralphie!” the voice cried. It was Uncle Bob, of course.
            “Bob!” said Ralph. “Is everything alright?”
            “I’m stuck. I mean, I’m having trouble with this song I’m working on. I thought maybe you could help me!” said Uncle Bob, looking all pent up and worried.
            “I’ll try to help. Maybe Maeve can help too!” Ralph giggled.
            “He could do worse!” said Maeve.
            “But, Bob, you know who you should really get to help? Maurice! He’s a master song maker. He’s not here right now, but he’ll be back in a couple of days! Can you wait that long?” said Ralph. “Maurice can build you a tune, and you can do the words!”
            “Aw, Ralphie! That’s a great idea, Man! I’ll keep fiddling with the words at home, and see Maurice when he gets back,” said Uncle Bob, happily.
            “Perfect!” said Ralph.

🍀

Good Morning! Light as Air, Open Thread

 Just a little old bubble.

I hope you have a lovely June 8th!

💮

Ramona, Thaga, And The Daisy Dust

 

            Ramona and Cherry had spent the night snugged in the quilts inside the cave, just like they usually did. But, Ralph, Maurice, and the wolf and the cats had slept outside by the fire. It wasn’t even a cool night, being summer and all.
            When Ramona woke early, as she always did, to stir up the fire and make a little something to eat, the sleepover crew were still snoring. Bob and Berry were on one side of the fire with Blue. Ralph was starting to wake and look around. Maurice was still out cold, with his long tongue hanging out of his snout.
            Ramona laughed when she saw him, but then she looked closer. There was something moving on that snout!
            “By all the buds and berries, Ralph, wake up!” shouted Ramona. “It’s a flea!” and she jumped back away from Maurice.
            Ralph’s eyes flew open, he sat up!
            Maurice woke, looking all around to see what the emergency could be.
            “Maurice, dear friend,” said Ramona, “you are inhabited  by an army of fleas! We’ve never had fleas here before. Oh, I don’t know what to do!”
            Maurice scratched thoughtfully at his haunch. Ralph looked like  he was thinking fast.
            “The Tansy always worked in the cave. I don’t know what to do to a living person!” cried Ramona.
            “I’m sorry,” said Maurice.
            “Thaga will know,” said Ralph. “She knows everything! We need Thaga!”
            “We do need Thaga!” said Ramona. “Baby, will you and Maurice go up to the house, find Thaga and show her? I’ll stay here and get some food ready. By the time you get back these fish will be fried.”
            “That’s just what we’ll do, Mona,” said Ralph, still yawning. “Come on, Maurice, you heard the Firekeeper!”
            Ramona plumped down on one of the conveniently placed logs there, and started cleaning the fish who had been napping in her five gallon bucket. The scraps went into the fire as she worked.
            “Please hurry, I feel itchy all over,” she said to their retreating backs. “Ew!” she said.
            When the boys got up to the Neanderthal's stone cabin, smoke was pouring out of the chimney, so they wouldn’t be waking anyone, they were glad to see.
            Ralph banged on the door a little louder than usual.
            The door opened immediately, and there was Thaga with her eyebrows up, and Harold at her feet. She had her big striped apron on, her silver hair in a bun well out of the way and her sleeves rolled up.
            “Good to see you, Ralph and Maurice too! It must be some kind of emergency. Are Ramona and Cherry well?”
            “It’s fleas, Thaga! Yes, Ramona and Cherry are well, but a little fussed up! Maurice here came to visit yesterday, and this morning Mona saw fleas on him. She didn’t know how to fight fleas on a person, so she sent us to you! Can you help?” said Ralph, all in a rush.
            “Fleas!” said Thaga. “Oh no, poor Ramona. Poor Maurice. Wait right there!”
            She didn’t invite them in, but vanished back into her kitchen.
            In two shakes she was back with a cloth bag of something.
            “I was kneading dough, but no matter. This is a real emergency! Tell Ramona that this is Daisy Dust. It kills all bugs, and is bad for cats. So send the Pumas out to camp in the woods for a while when she uses it.
            “Dust it all over Maurice, getting it all through his fur. Sorry Maurice, but you’ll feel better when it’s all over. Tell her to dust it on the floor of the cave too. And! If any of you feel something crawling in your hair, treat yourselves the same way you treated Maurice,” instructed Thaga.
            She nodded and said, “Give Ramona my love. I’ll see you all later, flea free! I need to knead. Goodbye.” And she handed the bag to Ralph and shut the door.
            Thus excused, Ralph and Maurice turned around to head for home.
            “Hey, Ralph,” said Maurice, “maybe we should dust me out here before we get back to Ramona. She shouldn’t have to do it.”
            Ralph agreed that it was a sensible idea. So, halfway between the stone cabin and the Home Clearing, Ralph dusted his friend Maurice all over with the Daisy Dust. He worked it into Maurice’s ears, and tail and everything, very firmly with his big hands. Dead fleas began falling from Maurice as he worked.
            “Now you do me,” said Ralph. “Just in case. I can’t tell if I have fleas or I’m just itching in solidarity.”
            Maurice did that. He got Daisy Dust all over Ralph’s hair, until both of them thought it was enough.
            “I think we’re OK now, let’s go back,” said Ralph. A dead flea fell out of his beard.
            Back at the fire circle, Ramona’s big square pan was covered in frying trout. She was sitting there still looking alarmed, but hopeful.
            Ralph explained to Ramona what Thaga had said to do with the Daisy Dust. He also explained that the medicine was bad for cats, and told the Puma bros to hang out in the woods for a day.
            Following directions, Ramona dusted little Cherry, and Blue too, very thoroughly. Then, she did her own hair, with a little help from Ralph.
            Then, just to be sure, she went inside the cave and covered the floor with a dusting of the flower powder. She put the remaining bit in the bag, up on the shelf right beside Maurice’s Book and harmonica. Just in case, you know, though books and harmonicas don’t generally host fleas.
            When she came back out, she said, “Did you ask her about making Maurice a bag for his things?”
            “No, Mona,” Ralph laughed. “It was all about fleas today. You’ll have to bring that up with her later.”
            “You’re right, Baby! Let’s eat these fish. Thank the Maker for Thaga! She always knows!
            “I’ve never seen her fail!” said Ralph happily.
            “I’m sorry I brought fleas, Ramona,” said Maurice. “I didn’t mean to!”
            “It’s alright, Maurice. The fleas are dead or dying, and the food is ready. Let’s eat it!”
            They did, and she also made a pot of coffee in celebration, and to make Maurice feel welcome.

💚🍵💚