Rainy Day Cats

A soft peach-tinted dawn gave way to mist and rain.

Trees along the road are nearly bare, tawny leaves clinging to a few along the way.

In the back yard the silver maple is realeasing her leaves.

They drift damply down to rest in a wide circle of pale gold.

A small maple nearest the house was the first to drop its leaves, back in September.

They have drifted into the herb garden, settling amongst thyme and sage.

The leaves of the sweet gum are mostly still green.

A few have colored and fallen to lie like brilliant red stars.

Teasel has chosen one of the linen shelves as a snug hideaway for a rainy day.

Teasel, being my 'darling', will not be hustled out of the towels--I'll have to remember that using the pink one will result in a face full of fluff!

Dear old Eggnog loves to watch the flicker of flames. She dreams by the hour in front of which ever

fire is burning.

Wilbur and Willow have stationed themselves by the sliding door, intent on the patter of rain drops and

 whirling leaves just beyond their noses.

Willis and his cohorts, Sadie and Sally, were on the side porch/carport promptly at 7:15

to claim their breakfast.

The tortie girls sensibly retreated to the barn when the rain blew in.

The outside felines have the choice of the 'tobacco barn' which is stacked to the rafters with this seasons' hay crop, or the nearer barn.  Devin contrived a snug house for the cats there in the loft, stacking hay bales to create a roomy covered 'cave' lined with old sleeping bags.

Willis, the contrary cat, has lodged on the wicker loveseat on the front porch.

Unfazed by the drizzle beyond the porch, he snuggles into a tattered sheepskin rug.

I've watched him from the window inside noting how his ears twitch as a current of air whisks dry leaves across the porch floor.

Two of the livingroom chairs are occupied by dozing cats.  Looking for an item J. wanted I found Mima sweetly curled in the storage closet off the outside basement stairs.

There is a cat on the bed, another on the plant table in the basement, huddled beneath the gro-light.

Charlie has curled his hairy self on the bench by the sliding doors, im-periling the already

cat-battered begonia.

I've moved an apple pie from the freezer to the oven where its spicy aroma will greet J. when he returns from installing a wood stove at G.'s house.

I made rash promises earlier this week that on the next rainy day I would [errrr!] betake myself downstairs to the family room to finish sorting my books and sewing paraphernalia.

All this observation of drowsy cats has me thinking it would be just the thing to curl up with a book--there is a comfy rocking chair alongside both the fireplace and the downstairs fire.

But [errr--again] I promised myself.

So, bolstered with a mug of tea, I'm off to the sorting

Edited to add that I was headed downstairs to my sorting, full of tea and good intentions, when J. returned and suggested that we make doughnuts--something we haven't done during the heat of spring and summer.

A cozy, sugary treat for a rainy day.

Good intentions will now resume.