=A View Through the Window=

.six weeks of choices

.i hear someone saw his shadow today .word quicky spread proclaiming 6 more weeks of storm darkened skies and folks jumped on board .lets be miserable together

.i'm inclined to think what you see is a choice .wondering, isn't it actually up to you, what to focus on? .will it be the darkness or the light?

.you choose

.at seven o'clock

chapter one

     .threshold: old English (n)
        .An entrance or a doorway.
        .The place or point of beginning; the outset...

At seven O'clock was the hour in which the granddaughter first re-entered the old shoppe holding the dusty memories of her childhood. The crumbling old building had been inherited from her grandmother a number of years before, but she had not until now, been able to bring herself to go inside.

With a good tug, the heavy wooden shutters covering the threshold came open to reveal the intricate carved door with it's wavy glass. She reached out for the milky white doorknob but instead, found herself running her finger over the heart shaped keyhole plate covering the lock. She looked down at her hands and began to unwrap the scrap of paper which held the key. It had been for years, tucked carefully away inside the old envelope retrieved from the bank. Unveiling the key she found it enfolded in a tattered velvet ribbon where it sat perfectly still, as if waiting for her to decide what to do next.

She smiled a little at the sight of the delicate heart shape carved on one end of the silver key. She thought of her grandmother's stories about the shoppe behind the door this key would open. It felt heavy in her hand and without warning, from it's nest of velvet, slipped from her fingers with a soft ringing as it hit the cobblestone in front of the doorsill.

.one

.start where you are

. you build the ark, i'll gather the animals .

 Everything is wet. Or muddy. Or both. Mostly, both. It's been pouring rain for days and the winds are whipping it everywhere. They closed the park because of falling trees. Mother Nature seems to be having a tantrum and even the ducks have gone inside to wait it out.

So, I opened the front door in a hurry tonight because the kitty bell was ringing. Far too wet to leave anyone outside in such weather, I grabbed the door open without really checking which cat. With towel in hand I hurried to get the poor thing inside quickly and shut the door. Okay. Here's the lesson. You know how your mother always said, don't open the door unless you look to see who is there first? Mom was right.

Lets just say I wasn't the only one startled.

I perhaps should back up and explain. I have hung a small brass bell outside each door of the cottage, front and back at kitty height for them to ring when they wish to be let in or out. It works like a charm. Anyone new to the family learns from the others what it means to ring those bells and proceeds to copy. And perhaps it works too well. 

By way of explaining what happened last night, I'll tell you a story. One of a typical sort of thing that happens here at the cottage. (Seriously, the place is a like some sort of mecca).

This past summer I became the friend, of a little girl raccoon that all to soon proved to be expecting a visit from the stork. I named her, Josephine. Every night separated by the window screen we spent time together chatting while she munched her food. Still only a baby herself, by midsummer Josephine's belly was all to clearly full of her own babies, she was near popping. I could hear the storks wings.

Having grown to feel safe here she would come at dusk and spend the night outside in the grass under the big pecan tree, near my bedroom window. From there like Pooh's Piglet, she would often stand up to the screen, reaching out towards my silhouette to be sure of me. I would whisper to her that everything was fine and she would wander back to her patch of grass only to return and check on me in an hour.

One hideously hot July afternoon a restless Josephine was in her spot far earlier than usual. Late that night she granted me the honor of being present for one of the most incredible miracles I have ever witnessed. With me there, Josephine gave birth to five gorgeous offspring out under the trees in the garden. Only a few feet from where she labored, I sat on the porch steps talking to her and snapping dozens of pictures.

After disappearing afterward for a couple of weeks, Josephine appeared once again, under her tree with a waddling brood of five at her heels. I was a godmother.

You know where this is going don't you.

Yes, last night I opened the door and grabbed Josephine. Or maybe it was Elizabeth the smallest of the cubs of whom I am enamored--I mix her up with her mother. At any rate the bell sounded and neither of us was expecting the other in such a disorderly speed.

 

My point to the story is not that one must always listen to the wise teachings of their mother (although it is unquestionably a good idea to do so, case-in-point), but the moral here is this: If you have a large gray tabby cat that is trained to ring the doorbell, and it is a drizzling dark night out & you only half glance at the cat when you hear the bell ring ... Be sure that what you see on the porch is The Cat before you grab. 

Not to worry. All misunderstandings have been settled and Josephine (or was it Elizabeth?) seems fine with the whole ordeal behind us. As well she quite enjoyed the extra treats received for not biting me.

I bet Noah knew to turn on the porch light.

-^..^- love, zUzU

 

:: i think i can . i think i can . i think i can ::

. ::  :: .

"enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realize they were the big things." -robert brault

... dunno what to think of the new typepad.

Ok. i think . i might . be making a little progress . sigh . now if i can just figure out what happened to my last three posts ... (where are they? i wonder).

if you see them please ask them to return home. it just isn't the same without them.

xx zUzU

.. . . picture by bernie . .. .