Thimble-Kitten is Now A Cat!

Thimble-kitten arrived in our lives on August 16, 2024; rescued from the parking lot of a local convenience store by our son, she was nearly starved, dirty, infested with fleas and lice. 

Howard gave her the first of several baths, provided a month's worth of kitten food.

By the time we got her to a vet appointment four days later, Thimble, though still thin had  found her place in our home and had begun to assert her considerable personality.

The vet judged that Thimble was between 8 and 10 weeks old, placing her birth during the month of June.

During these past weeks I've been telling her she is no longer a 'kitten' but a 'cat!'

Thimble is the naughtiest, most imaginative feline we've met in our decades of sharing our home with cats. 

She carries her toys [a collection of green milk bottle caps] around like a puppy, bounces them down the stairs, waits for me to retrieve them from under shelves, from behind the piano, where ever they have landed. If we forget to pick up the lids and stow them in a drawer at bedtime, as soon as lights go out the 'toys' are located and clattered about the house.

Thimble is a rummager, an investigator, an acrobat, a too willing helper in every task.

The other cats do not enjoy her companionship; she chases, pounces, stalks. Rosie is her particular focus of torment and runs squalling while Thimble fixes her with a beady eye before launching herself in Rosie's direction. 

Thimble's midnight antics often mean that she has to be sequestered in the sunroom for the remainder of the night. 

And yet, particularly when she has created an uproar, sent objects flying from countertop or desk, splashed in the water bowl, there's that little whiskery face, those big eyes gazing at me; and so I scoop her up, let her clamber to my shoulder and purr in my ear. I tell her its a good thing that I love her!

First bath.

Anything to be noticed!

A moment of repose.

Any container must be tried on for size--the bucket of newspapers saved for fire starters.

Thimble never forgets that Howard rescued her, gave her a chance at life. 

She makes it plain they have a bond.

Fearless!

Why shouldn't I make music?

The face of innocence. 

A wastebasket full of fabric scraps, emptied on the floor.

This basket is the best fit.

A cushioned colander.

A box--for me!

Thimble enjoys quilts.

Enjoying the cat tower. 

A friend of Howard wanted to rehome a cat condo/tower. It is a cumbersome thing, the posts wound with thin rope which Thimble has mostly unwound. I didn't feel we needed it, but it provides endless exercise and amusement for this kitten turned cat. 

She is a performer, a show-off, an entertainer.

We may not have needed a kitten, but I can't now imagine life without Thimble!

 

Garden Notes

I was outside by 8:30 to see how yesterday's transplants were faring. The nasturtiums in the right-hand corner were growing in a large pot on the back porch; nasturtiums don't appreciate being moved from where they are seeded, however I think with a little coddling these may survive. The thyme set in along the left edge spent the winter in pots lodged by the greenhouse; they came originally from the plant/produce auction and were passed along by son-in-law Matt. I had a large clump of thyme [provenance unknown at this point] that was stuffed in a planter, root-bound. I was quite ruthless with this, pulling it apart into several divisions. Heavy spring rains have yellowed plants that were sitting about in tight quarters; I think that having room to spread and grow will see them shortly reviving to a healthier green.

Hyssop which has been in a pot, a clump of dianthus hoicked out of the older raised bed, basket flowers started from seed this spring and more than ready for transplanting.

The Flying Pig was an anniversary gift from friends almost a dozen years ago. She is now standing watch over a dwarf nandina which Jim helped me relocate. The shrub was set in the rather disappointing back garden effort, hidden by a militant proliferation of monarda and lemon balm. 

J. noticed me heaving dirt about and took over. 

I am always impressed by the ability of a male to wield a shovel or garden fork with an efficiency that I can't manage.

This area outside the greenhouse door has been a 'catch-all' spot for self-seeding catnip, various mints escaped from pots, the achillea seedlings that I rescued from the turf surrounding the bed by the front steps. If my plans come to pass, the achillea will be moved to the strip that is meant to be worked up where the sunflowers are now growing. That being so, I will allow the various mints to run rampant along the wall.

 Achillea has a tendency to flop, but I've never seen a dwarf variety. 

Pale coneflower started from seed during the spring of the wildflower experiment. 

Two hours of moderate garden work, coming in at 10:30--shirt soaked and clinging unpleasantly.

I changed from the skin out; brewed a jug of lemonade to extend the daily jug of iced tea. A nearly noon meal concocted when J. returned from an errand; cats and their litter boxes tended. 

It is overcast now. There are so many outside tasks that want done: cutting away the rain-damaged leaves from the clematis vines, pruning the roses now that bloom is past and time for pesty bugs to appear. Weeding--always more weeding!

I will likely make garden rounds again in the evening--these lengthy twilight hours moving toward the solstice are lovely for lingering outside.

For now, I think I'll move downstairs to my long-neglected sewing. 

 

The Raised Garden Bed Project

 

I'm not sure if Jim began work on the raised bed because he was tired of hearing me clamour for one--or if he suddenly decided it was a valid idea.

I let him know that I was researching online for the kind that are shipped in pieces to be assembled. I got out a yardstick to approximate the sizes offered and was debating whether the largest available would accommodate the plants I have in mind.

Jim rather off-handedly announced that he could construct something better from materials on hand.

The sides are 16 ft long insulated vinyl-clad panels left from partitioning the barn to make the heated/cooled workshop area. The interior width is slightly over 3 ft. 

 

J. decided that the best and most economical way to fill the bed was to place baled hay in the bottom. Last Tuesday [27 May] we drove in the car to the S. Fork area to make inquiries and found that the local Amish Feed Store had baled hay for sale. Back with the truck to collect it, returning just before a light evening rain.

Raised bed in place, planting bins and greenhouse beyond to the left.

On the right is my double row of sunflowers. 

My plan--which may have to be mulled for awhile--is to place a rustic fence just beyond the sunflowers, and when they are done blooming, that strip can be tilled and used to set in some of the many seedlings of foxglove, lemon monarda and such which are growing in greenhouse pots.

I expect I shouldn't make too much noise about this phase until later.

Yesterday [Monday] after a consultation with son-in-law M. we headed into town to a local rather upscale 'seed and feed' that sells topsoil, mulch, and compost by the 'scoop' load.

As we neared town our grandson D. pulled onto the road behind us, just leaving his apartment. At the stop light--J. in the right hand turning lane, D. in the left--D rolled down his window and shouted, 'Mexican Restaurant!'

Who could refuse such an invitation?

I had been texting daughter G. regarding plants; it was a surprise to find her waiting on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, joined in a few minutes by M.

After lunch we were urged to drive out to see their latest gardening accomplishments. 

I have borrowed a photo; their gardens are far more organized than mine will ever be.

Worthy of a feature in a glossy gardening magazine!

We had a tour of the side gardens G. has been creating, and the display of vintage items used as planters near the front steps.

These detours of several hours made for a delightfully unexpected outing before going on to haul home the load of soil.

J. 'double dug' the garden dirt underneath the raised bed frame, placed the bales of hay and shoveled the garden dirt on top; the second layer was the soil mix from the farm store layered in place early this morning.

The final top layer is bagged planting mix from my favorite South Fork nursery, Homestead Gardens.

I have clambered into the truck and ridden along on these forays to collect what was needed. 

It is companionable, and such small outings especially around the back roads of the S. Fork community, give us renewed appreciation for this place where we have chosen to live out our retirement.

It is nearly lunch time when breakfast happens these days. 

After shoveling dirt [Jim] watering greenhouse plants and spraying blight deterrent on the tomato plants in the garden [Me] I made Belgian waffles topped with butter, maple syrup, fruit sauce and whipped cream with a side of turkey sausage links.

Must keep up our energy!