Saturday, July 31, 2010

Green lanes and yellow pillows.

Late morning and finaly She starts to walk, up the green lane that now tunnels the emerald summer light, narrowed by grass and fern and bramble, all full of summer growth.

At the top of the hill pillows of tormentil  soften the grass where the little people of the air criss cross on butterfly wings and glass wings and feather wings, or jump and sing their grasshopper songs in golden grass flowers. A short walk. We rest amid the songs of insects and watch cloud shadows dance across the land.

Then home again as She has work to do, but at home we find rest in the garden where the herbs grow.

The moon has come to rest in our garden of herbs.
 Meanwhile, in the studio, and She is wandering off into a world of painting when She should be thinking of nursery rhymes. Soon She will begin work on the cat book. For now, cheetahs and cherries.

A Cloud Bitten Day of Bright Colours

On the way up the hill the dogs played in the long green gold swaying grass. It seemed that the sky had come to earth and bitten pieces from it.

We walked together and close, tails twined.

The gray sky made the fields grow emerald bright, made ginger fur shine like fire. In the green lane home the grass and bracken bent almost to tunnel the path. The lane held the air from another day, a warmer day, scented with summer smells. Beautiful.

Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A pool of beauty

In the early evening twilight time of day Elmo discovered that a small patch of sky had tumbled to earth, bringing with it clouds lit by falling sunshine.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Somewhere, the moon.

Walking the twilight village and the sky is like the under belly of a fish. As I rest in Her arms She is reminded that a year has passed and I am still here. As She feels the weight of me, the warmth of me, the great purring life in me, She is glad. A whole year of time, and in that year She has spent too much time painting and not enough time walking with me. Now the weight of my tail resting wrapped around Her cold arm shows Her that I forgive Her the time She has wasted in not being with a cat.
Bats fly. The growing darkness is lit by flickers of moth flit.
I purr. She walks. Somewhere the moon watches.

Monday, July 12, 2010


On top of the wood pile is the new place of choice for a cat to sit and think, about life, love and the persuit of happiness.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Twilight and life.

She walked too early this evening, around the  village. She wanted to see bats. She wanted to draw. Three dogs, four ginger cats and Her, a curious ritual procession to call the dark in on another day. In the hedges the campion flowers glowed brightest pink. Across the fields swallows skimmed the sea of grass. At Glyn's house he was standing on the doorstep looking tired and frail, but still there with a pat for a cat and a treat for a dog. She stayed and talked and he wanted to know if She thought there was a heaven up there.
As they talked the sky began to glow a rich pink, a flood of colour across the land, a splendid dance of setting sun, a radiant roof for the world. Bats began to flit flitter across the yard. Moth flutter, bat flit and the reeling rasp of grasshopper warblers as twilight fell.
Beautiful fading light and life.
If any could spare the time we think perhaps Glyn would like some letters. They have brought such joy to his life, knowing that he has friends so far away. Just someone out there who is thinking of him.

Cards can be posted to: C/O Chris and Julie, The Moshulu Shoe Shop, New Street, St Davids, SA62 6SN, Wales, UK.
We will make sure that She takes them to him. 

Sunday, July 4, 2010

A heartfelt thanks from Glyn and the patient cat.

We at the House of Ginger have been asked by Mr Griffith, our good friend, to say a very big and warm thank you to everyone who took the time and trouble to send cards and letters and pictures and good wishes to him while he was away from home. He is back now, home with Nadolig who is very pleased to see him. He is well, enjoying the sunshine, the familiar and loved surroundings, the garden and the birdsong, and the company of cats again.
And he just wanted to say thanks.
He still has all the cards, in a very heavy bag and will sit and look through, sharing with Nadolig, and marvelling at the simple kindness of strangers who took time to send a line, a wish, a greeting until their thoughts wrapped around the world in a wish that these two friends would be reunited.
And they are.