It was frosty this morning when I opened the front door to take food to Mamma Hiss-Hiss [the feral mother cat] but so sparkling and pretty that I hurried in for my camera.
The house faces more or less south with the sun now coming up low in the sky, slanting over the hill.
Looking to the south-west.
It is always interesting the way the vistas open up as leaves fall from the trees.
In Kentucky nearly every view is criss-crossed with the overhead power wires.
Double-Red Knock-out roses against the front wall of the house.
They are frost-bitten, but still appealing.
The four straggling rosemarys which I felt had a 50-50 chance of survival.
Three are slowly growing--the fourth is spindly but tenacious.
Jim has been moving wood from our former home as the new owner is bringing in his own store of wood.
Sunflowers, seared and blackened by frost, stark against a brilliant early morning sky.
The ghost of a waning moon peeks between the stalks.
I moved peonies here in the spring, but didn't find a suitable spot to transplant them.
The foliage withered and died and I feared that the roots might not have borne the strain of living in a pot all summer.
At least three are showing new growth--I intend to find a spot at the new farmhouse where they can be put in the ground to over-winter.
Days are demanding with the work needed to clear out our former home.
I spent the day there, hauling out the sort of bits and pieces which seem to accumulate--those small items which don't fit in any particular category of usefulness--items which likely should have been thrown out long ago.
Having cleared the rooms, I began wiping down all the woodwork--baseboards, top edges of doors [embarrassingly dusty] meticulously scoured the bathtub and shower surround, ditto the vanity sink and commode. I swabbed cupboard shelves, finally trundled the vac through each room.
Whenever we move out of a house I am appalled to find that painted walls behind furniture have been scuffed, color has faded around pictures and wall-hangings, and rooms decorated a mere 4 years ago need to be refreshed.
I suspect that my 'cottage' colors will soon be covered with the ubiquitous high gloss paint in some shade of blue--an Amish preference.
I piled my van with a tumble of oddments, and set off for the barn hoping to capture Sadie and Sally, the tortie barn cats who must be conveyed to their new home.
Jim had set the big cage in the raised stall which has been their part of the barn since
their arrival as kittens.
Sadie was in the loft and pattered down the stairs as soon as I called, 'Here, kitty, kitty.'
I stuffed her in the cage and went in search of Sally.
She appeared from the center aisle of the barn and approached me.
I picked her up and she instantly became a writhing, twisting ball of muscle and fur.
She plunged from my arms and skittered toward the tobacco barn.
I followed, wheedling and coaxing.
After some 15 minutes of hide and seek, I lost sight of Sally somewhere in the dimness of the barn.
I pottered around the house for a few minutes, then called her again.
She remained hidden.
I needed to stop at the store on my way home, so loaded in Sadie and departed.
The checkout lines at the store were frustratingly long [the usual with Wal Mart.]
By the time I finally got on the road for home, the sky was stained with the colors of sunset: shades of rose, pink, mauve, coral.
It is lovely to see the colors of nature in their true values with my 'new' eyes!
In the rear-view mirror, contrails plumed, white gold against a molten sky.
When I pulled into the driveway, trees and buildings were going dark against the deep lavender rose of nightfall.
I lugged the cat cage down the back stairs to the laundry room and decanted Sadie to enjoy [?] a reunion with Willis.
A rush to prepare supper before the aches and tiredness of a long day would cave in on me.
Jim and Howard grease-smeared from working on an ailing vehicle.
Cats milling about the kitchen, clearly feeling the neglect of the day.
Katy-dog hovering in the hope that a tidbit might fall her way as I sliced beef and veg for a stir-fry.
I can't even think of what to do with clutter and clobber in the van!
How many trips will I need to make before I can catch the skittish Sally?
It is not yet 9 P.M. but of late my 'second'wind' refuses to blow in.
My night-owl nature has temporarily succumbed to the need for rest and renewal.
I long for the time [and energy] to write, to read, to sew.
Surely sometime soon we will sort ourselves out, settle into a final permanent home.
For now, a mug of tea, a few minutes to nod over a magazine--and then fall into bed!