Blundering About

Looking beyond the shadows at the north side of the house, Thursday, mid-afternoon.

A morning of variable weather, dark clouds gave way to billowing clouds, sunshine, a nippy wind.

The ground is still soggy from the wind-driven rain that pelted down until nearly dawn on Thursday.

Seed pods on tulip poplar.

Tulip poplars are handsome year round. In spring the blossoms look like stiff tulips made of yellow and orange paper. The shell-like seed pods cling on through the winter.

Siding being applied to the outside of the porch room.

We are noticing that the new stain is not a perfect match, although I'm sure [at least 99%] that I ordered the correct color. At this point we have to hope it will weather a bit and become more of a match. Its not going to be done over.

A rubble of tools, ladders, sawhorses and staging are part of the process.

Peering up toward the window is the stray cat I call Herman.

He is not bony and starved looking, but is very wary of humans. Sometimes merely peeking through the window at him sets him off. Willis [on the top step] seems to have made peace with Herman.

I've not seen the other stray, Hector, for some weeks; last time he came to eat he was limping on a sore front paw.

The visiting cats are tidier than the raccoons or possums who come by.

One raccoon at a time usually eats without too much mess; if more than one, there are 'food fights' and  dishes are flung over the edge of the porch to land in the herb garden.

'Someone'--whether raccoon or cat--left a 'deposit' in the corner of the porch Wednesday night. Perhaps after over-eating the thought of hastening to the bushes in a downpour of rain was too much [?]

Dealing with this after [another] nearly sleepless night, then going downstairs to discover a hairball upheaval was disheartening. 

I keep old quilts and throws on the furniture and they need frequent laundering--part of the work that goes with a family of cats.

Nellie likes shelves and accesses this one via the utility cart, then onto the fridge top and along the shelf to his favorite basket. 

These are collectible Longaberger baskets and really shouldn't be occupied by cats.

Knowing Nellie as I do, any effort to coax him down can result in a welter of breakables.

The look of innocence. 

Another innocent--Miss Rosie.

J. found the tinsel tree in a trailer he was helping to clear out, brought it home and insists on displaying it. The red ribbons are frequently tugged loose.

The beauty of flowers is so fleeting--I look at them and think, 'Oh, please stay with us another day or two!'

Afternoon sun shining through red velvet petals.

The lovely Christmas arrangement delivered last evening by Dawn.

I enjoy every detail of the florist's artistry. 

I'm glad to report that Rosie has not molested the flowers today. 

Dare I leave them on the table overnight?

When humans turn the lights out at bedtime it usually signals a feline rampage.

They may have been plonked here and there, on beds, chairs, the top of the piano, but once the house is dark all kinds of mayhem takes place.

Blundering and bumbling about--a more prolonged bout than usual of insomnia has left me feeling stupid. My mind whirrs on while my body longs for sleep. 

A family failing passed on by my Dad, and one to which I am accustomed but not resigned!

I've mogged through daytime this week, doing the usual chores, even a bit of sewing, but glad I am not required to go out to a job or to 'operate machinery!'

On such nights I often turn on my bedside lamp, read until I feel my eyes closing and the book falling from my hands; turn out light, snuggle into the blankets, and immediately I'm awake again.

About the foggiest I've been today was so concentrating on preparing cabbage rolls that 5 loaves of bread were pushing over the tops of the pans before I remembered to turn on the oven.

Isn't it odd that wakeful during the night, pondering a dozen projects, one doesn't simply get out of bed, dress and do something?