Why Is It Always Charlie?

Charlie gazes out from his favorite cardboard box. He has another which can be placed upside down and has a rounded "entrance."  If he goes in that one head first he thinks he is invisible--never mind that his fluffy plume of a tail and plump backside may be in view.

J. went to the the lumberyard yesterday for sheets of plywood to put down as subflooring in the attic space which is becoming a bedroom and bath.  Rather than carry the sheets through the house and maneuver them up the narrow new stairway he started the Sky Trak and used the lift to hoist the plywood to the recently installed gable end window where it could be handed through.  Grandson D. came down to help move the plywood, while I finished making lunch. Suddenly, over the grumble of the tractor outside, there was a crash.  I paid it little mind, thinking a sheet of plywood had landed a bit askew on the attic floor.

D. came in, headed in here and said, "Oh, Oh, somebody made a mess!"

I blamed Charlie, then felt guilty as I hadn't seen him dump the plant.

D. reported that Charlie had been watching intently through the window while the plywood was raised and unloaded from the lift.

"We heard a crash inside the room and then Charlie Disappeared" he added.

In the process of crashing the geranium, Charlie managed to overturn the water pot I keep under the bench to fill my steam iron.  Water puddled through scattered soil and around the smooth rocks I use to discourage the cats from pawing at the soil in plant containers. I hastily set the plant back in the dirt while we fetched a rag to mop up with, the broom and dustpan, and finally the vac. A stalk of the plant was broken, so I added it to the jar in which I am rooting similar "slips."

This is the same variety of  Robin Hood geranium as the one which was overturned.  The first of these plants was given to me more than 20 years ago by an elderly lady who had bought the variety decades earlier at the annual spring Flower Show in Boston, Massachusetts.  I treasure it because of my association with her, and because it is an interesting plant, always in flower. It has to be cut back frequently or it goes spindly.  Thus over the years, I've had many offspring to give away and enough rooted cuttings to be sure that I have several of these cheerful things thriving.

Charlie, who usually craves attention, was notably missing during the clean up process. After lunch I looked for him and found him cuddled under the bed with his daughter, Jemima.

As the afternoon grew colder, J. and D. prepared to move the Sky Trak back nearer to the garage--where the block heater can be plugged in for a few hours prior to starting it in the cold.

As the Sky Trak roared to life, Charlie emerged from under the bed, not being one to miss what goes on.

Charlie watches from the bedroom window.  No plants here on the sill.

Charlie inspires exasperation almost daily.  He is an affectionate extrovert, a meddler, not very bright.

[Although he did catch a mouse!]

The sun, which had been elusive all day, sank behind the foothills in a brief flare of pale gold, and our corner of the world huddled into another cold moonlit night.