Pear Blossom, Panting Cat

The little Asian pear tree is blossoming white and velvety, very quietly, delicately, without attracting much notice except from bees and little birds.

We had a quiet day. When the keeper came home in late afternoon, she let us out and we sunned ourselves on the deck with her as she admired the pear tree. But Alice would have none of it; she was itching for more excitement, and snuck away into other yards. She was gone for an hour. We looked for her and the keeper called her name over and over. Suddenly she came bolting back like a bullet over the fence. We think she was tracking down the white intruder cat. She was out of breath, threw herself on the floor panting. What did she get herself into? She is so grounded.

Fallen Angel, Shooting Star

Today the angel fell off the perch. Or perhaps was pushed off the perch and dragged a bit. Nothing broken. We checked it out, but couldn't budge it. The keeper came and moved it back in place. All is well again in the damp garden.

But as this angel falls, another flies. The keeper received a call from her brother who said Aunt Wyn died, and she flew after a long struggle with the indignities of age this past Sunday. It was her sister's birthday, and Wyn had been mad that her sister had passed on Christmas. Now they are even. She was a gentle spirit, she did good work, spent less than a year as a bride, and the rest of her life as a mother and widow. May she rest from her labors and struggles in delight and freedom, the tears of that long lost love now wiped away. She has flown home like "a shooting star in the night" (Sojourner Truth), and we are grateful to have had her with us for so long.

Fava Beans, Window Seat

Fava beans. Today the keeper left us again and came home with a photo of fava beans flowering in her friend's yard. But she also brought us a cat window perch so we can watch birds together through the back window. Perfect timing because a spring rain started to fall and turned the fresh-turned garden's earth chocolate brown. No birds to watch, though. But they will come tomorrow because we know there will be worms.

Garden Angel

We spent most of the day outside today. Our keeper gardened and and we lolled around in the sun on the deck. Alice chased a big white cat out of the yard. She leapt over the gate like a steeplechaser, tail all bushy, not stopping to even breathe. She chased the intruder down to the end of the street and watched him turn the corner. Then, just to make sure he wouldn't return, she waited for him some time under our neighbor's car. Our keeper was frantic She lured us in with grilled salmon. Alice deserved a whole filet, but she only got little pieces.

We also welcomed our garden angel back into the yard from wintering in the garage. This angel guards us and all our plants and all the living beings here, even the intruder cats. A big task, since today she planted even more living things---- hanging baskeets and camelias and shrubs and all kinds of seeds and flowers. We just wonder if she will remember to water all of this, with Eloy gone. (He always complained that she didn't understand how plants need water.)

We saw a very fat bumblebee too.

Sunday Collections

Sunday. We got her up. The sun was out. But we stayed in and she went out. She returned when ther sun had gone and brought us stories from downtown, the east and the valley.

The story that made us think was the saddest: The small man had been murdered, his body discovered abandoned in a parking lot. It made the news. He was young, an immigrant far from home with a family here. They are poor. They speak no English. They are sending his body back to his country.

At the immigrant church, the minister introduces this family of sorrow to the 1000 worshippers, shares their story, states the need, and places the small bushel basket on the altar steps. Music plays, and slowly, for 10 minutes, hundreds of immigrants just like this family-- elders, children, young men desperate for work, mothers, teenage girls in heels too high, all make their way solemnly and knowingly to the basket where they offer their gift of accompaniment. They reach out and touch the little family, and return soberly to their seats, aware of how perilous and vulnerable lives are, especially those of the undocumented, unseen poor. They are only noticed and named when tragedy strikes.

Candles for Seekers of Safe Shelter

Today she left us early for another meeting.

When she returned she told us that we were very fortunate to have a home and such fine care. Then she began her little sermon.

She told us that we live better than many people, especially those forced to leave their countries because of war, violence, hunger. She said sometimes these men, women, and children have no choice but to live like the stray animals we once were--hunted by those who prey on the vulnerable, desperately seeking food, shelter, water, with no one to call them by their true names, no one to remind them of their dignity, no one to invite them in out of the harsh reality of the world each night.

She told us it was important to remember that God became a traveller like that, an incarnate immigrant into this world named Jesus, and even though he was hunted down, he lived with a graciousness that knew no borders, and taught us how we could live like that too. That risen Spirit continues to live right here, she said, and begs us to see, to welcome the stranger with compassion.

So we are resolved to be more hospitable to all the neighbor cats who trespass on our territory. We are not ready to share our food yet, though. But we will remember all those people who seek safe journey and shelter tonight. They could have our food.

The Country Dripping Glass Green

She left us inside this morning and drove out to the country. She did bring us back this picture of a very old farmhouse on a hill overlooking a valley in Duvall. And she told us about how the trees dripped every shade of green as they hugged both sides of the winding roads and how the sunlight wove itself in and out of their branches and new leaves. We listened to her and then she let us play outside until it was too dark and the wild animals come out.

Apple tree /biscuit tin/ bird house

Our biscuit tin to scare away squirrels from the apple tree has a small rusty hole in the bottom. We just saw a little bird fly through the hole. She has created a nest in it, and when you put your ear up close to the tin, you can hear little peeps. it is a different kind of tree house that swings in the breeze. We are content to sit on the railing, twitching our tails waiting for those birds to venture out.

Sunlight, Planting, and Farewell

So much sun! We rolled around on the deck and watched our human friend plant things--little lettuce plants, pansies, sweet peas, red bean flowers. She also went out and bought more, and now we have flats of flowers on our lawn. Today we also said good bye to our good friend Eloy who took care of our yard for many years. We will miss him a lot. He made our yard beautiful, and now it is full of birds and soon, bees, for chasing and watching