Category Archives: Cats

Cats, Celebrate, Food, News

Success! Plus, Gotcha Day and a Short Break

16 Comments

Success

On Saturday, the weather gods were kind to us. The day was sunny, and the temperature was relatively mild—in the mid-60s. Off to southern Maine we went to join Shannon and Mike at Stonewall Kitchen and have lunch at their cafe.

Stonewall is such a pretty place.

And while the day was a bit chilly, we wore jackets and were able to eat outside.

I chose my favorite—grilled brie with fig jam and homemade chips on the side.

And a whoopie pie for dessert.

As always, we had a wonderful time talking and catching up. Because of our schedules, Covid, and the weather, the last time we got together was in June for Father’s Day. We, of course, text regularly, but it’s not the same as meeting in person and having a good chinwag, as our friends across the pond might put it.

All too soon it was time to head home—south for Shannon and Mike, north for me, Dee, and Clif. And with the trees glowing in their fall finery, what a beautiful drive it was.

Next birthday: Dee’s at the end of October.

************************************************************************

Gotcha Day

Sunday, October 4 was Gotcha Day for our two cats, Fern and Kai. Hard to believe it’s been a whole year since we adopted them. They have settled very nicely into our routine, and I can’t imagine the household without them. So many cats are given up to shelters, lots of kittens and lots of adult cats. (Kai and Fern were two when they came to live with us.) Poor creatures, totally at the mercy of humans, who are not always merciful. For folks who love cats (and dogs), adopting one or two from a shelter and giving them a good home is such an act of kindness.

Anyway, here Fern and Kai will stay until they cross the rainbow bridge. Happy gotcha day, Fern and Kai! So glad you are with us.

************************************************************************

A Short Break

In November, my fifth book, Darcy Dansereau and the Missing Children, will be published. My first four books revolved around a mysterious place called the Great Library, involving good librarians and bad librarians. Darcy Dansereau takes place closer to home, in Waterville, Maine. There is some magic—I can’t seem to write a story without it—but it’s primarily a slice-of-life novel, a coming-of-age story,  a portrait of an artist as a young girl. (This is a gentle nudge for those who don’t read fantasy. You just might like this one.) As the title suggests, the book is also a mystery involving missing children that Darcy and her friends must solve.

Here is a rough draft of the cover. It still needs some work. Either the leaves on the trees must go, or the white on the sidewalk, which looks like snow, must go. I think maybe my name should be moved to the right of Darcy. Anyway, Clif is working on it. But the image below gives a basic idea of what the cover will look like.

Over the next month or so, there will be a lot of work getting the book ready, and this entails many fiddly things. Therefore, I’ll be taking a break for a few weeks to get the book ready for publication.

When I come back, there will be a giveaway contest for the book, and I’ll send it to the winner anywhere in the world, from Maine to South Africa.

See you in a few weeks!

 

 

Cats, Flowers, summer

Late July, 2026

65 Comments

At the beginning of the month, we had a horrible heatwave, and I whined about how we don’t have summers in Maine the way we once did. Well, either the weather gods heard my lament and took pity on me, or they decided to pull one of their little tricks. The heatwave lasted for a few days, and since then, we have been having an old-fashioned Maine summer — warm, dry days with temps in the low 80s and cool nights that dip down into the 50s or 60s. In other words, sheer delight. I wish readers suffering through extreme heat could be in Maine right now to enjoy this perfect weather.

My front gardens are in a bit of funk right now and not just because of the work on the house. Somehow, with the demise of my lilies because of the lily beetles, I just haven’t found anything to take their place in terms of color and pizzaz for late July and August. Darn things! The beetles are relatively new to Maine, and I wish they had never crossed the border. But in everyday life, we know how far we get ahead with wishes. The lily beetles are here to stay, and I have decided not to grow lilies in the garden.

However,  the plants on my porch are thriving. Between the perfect weather and just the right amount of watering and feeding, they are in their glory.

Begonias,

coleuses,

and those oh-so-pretty petunias really jazz up the front porch.

In other news…Clif began tearing siding off the house,

but he ran into some problems. Or rather, they ran into him.

Now, for the most part, we are very careful not to destroy the homes and habitat of the creatures who live around us. In our yard, Moles and ants burrow and dig with abandon. Porcupines are allowed to use the underneath of our shed for a home. But Clif was unable to work on the house with a nest guarded by dive-bombing biters. (I am not sure if it is a hornet or wasp nest, but the results are the same. Readers, if you know what kind of nest this is, do let me know.)

So last night, when it was dark, Clif found a long piece of wood and knocked the nest down. This morning, I used the wood to hook the nest, which still had insects buzzing around it, and deposited it into the woods on the side of our yard. At least we didn’t have to use poison to get rid of the problem, and this afternoon, Clif will be able to resume work on the house.

Never a dull moment at our house on the edge of the woods, but Kai, one of our cats, took it all in stride as he relaxed in the living room.

Ah, the life of a cat!

 

 

Books, Cats, Gardening

Done Da Done! And: Ferns, Ferns, Ferns

55 Comments

Garden Report

Last week, I did it. Creaky knees and all, I raked the leaves from the last bed. Did I feel good about this accomplishment? You bet I did.

Now, onward to compost, wood ash, and fertilizer. Plus, moving things here and there. For me, as I’m sure it is for most gardeners, May is as busy a month as December. For different reasons, naturally. However, just as I love the holidays, I also love the month of May with its intense gardening.

Let’s hear it for hands in the dirt and a garden cart at the ready. Trowel, shovel, garden shears, cultivator. Check, check, check, and check.

For a gardener, life becomes pretty basic in the spring. But oh so good.

Fern Report

I’m not sure if I love ferns because I live on the edge of the woods, or if I live on the edge of the woods because I love ferns. But as readers might have noticed, I’m crazy about ferns.

Let’s take a look at the ferns I’ve been following since they poked their pretty little heads up at the end of April.

Here they are on April 27. Such dear little things.

And here they are, twelve days later: elegant, tall, and feathery.

Amazing, isn’t it? They really are all grown up.

But never fear. There are more ferns emerging for me to marvel at.

Soon, these little ferns will be grown-up, too, gracing the yard with their beauty, for which we are grateful. One of the best things is that, for the most part, I don’t have to do a thing to encourage them. They spread and grow on their own. (All right. I will admit that I might have bought a fern or two for my beds. But most of the ferns by the house and in the yard came here on their own. Seems like a miracle.)

Finally, a pleasing combination of pink and green.

First Drinks on the Patio

Saturday, May 16, was a banner day at our home on the edge of the woods. We had our first drinks of the year on our patio.

The owl wine glass belongs to my daughter Dee, who loves owls just as much as I love ferns.

Cheers to blogging friends near and far. Our happy time on the patio is here, and soon there will be a new addition in the backyard, which will add to our enjoyment.

Stay tuned.

Reading

When I Was a German, 1934–1945: An Englishwoman in Nazi Germany
(Original Title: The Past Is Myself)
By Christabel Bielenberg

When I Was a German, a memoir by Christabel Bielenberg, is a heavy book to read in the merry month of May. But maybe it’s good to read this kind of book when the weather is lovely, and things are green and growing.

In the book’s foreword, Christabel Bielenberg acknowledges that although there is ample material documenting this terrible time in Europe, she has “one advantage…I am English; I was German, and above all I was there.”

Indeed, she was. In England in 1934, Christobel married the tall, handsome German Peter Bielenberg. When she married, Christabel Bielenberg gave up British citizenship and became a German citizen. (Twelve years later, she would relinquish her German citizenship to “become a British subject once again.”)

At first, Christobel and Peter lived in Hamburg, Germany.  Both Peter, a law student, and Christabel were upper-middle-class and well-connected. From the jump, they thought that Hitler was “a clown” who would not be in power long. Turns out, they were wrong.

The Bielenbergs had friends who were staunchly opposed to Hitler, and they persuaded the young couple to stay in Germany to help bring down the government. Peter took a job with the Ministry of Industry and Commerce in Berlin to be closer to the Nazi government. By then, the couple had children, and they moved to Berlin, to the heart of darkness.

Things, of course, go from bad to worse. Friends are hanged, and Berlin is relentlessly bombed by the Allies. Christabel moves with her three children to a small village in the Black Forest, where they live in relative safety. Peter stays in Berlin and is eventually imprisoned because of his association with the men who tried to assassinate Hitler. (Peter himself was not involved in the attempt.)

All of this is riveting reading, and I especially liked Christabel’s descriptions of village life in the Black Forest, far away from Berlin. While the village and the villagers were officially allied with the Nazi party, they were kind to Christabel and her sons, and for the most part, they were not fanatical followers of Hitler. (This, of course, does not absolve them of their complicity, but it does add nuance.)

My one complaint about the book is that it covers too much territory too quickly. Those were, after all, eventful years. At times, the book felt rushed, and I think the material would have been better served by being expanded into several volumes, in which the various aspects of Christabel’s life could have been described in more detail. As it is, the book jumps from person to place, and I had a hard time keeping track of those not in the author’s immediate family.

Still, When I was a German is well worth reading, not the least because of Christobel’s insights.

I’ll conclude with one of her reflections, which seems all too relevant in today’s world, where the Right Wing is, alas, in ascendance once again.

“There would be few to pity them {the German People] for the wheel had turned full circle, as deluded by piffling ambition, bent on taking revenge for their failure, they were now slaughtering everything that was best about their country. No nation could afford such extravagance, there was no excuse,  no pardon for such things. This was the punishment, ruins, ruins and more ruins….When I married Peter ten years ago…I did not realize that I would be binding myself to the fate of the whole of this unhappy race.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cats, Movies, Winter

A Hazy Shade of Winter

60 Comments

On Friday, the sky—to borrow from Simon and Garfunkel—was a hazy shade of winter.

In February in Maine, that can mean only one thing—snow—and snow it did, about five or six inches, which for northern New England is a nice little storm. The snow was not too heavy, and our trusty electric snow-thrower, Snow Joe, easily took care of it.

On Saturday, the skies cleared, and we had one of those beautiful winter days that Maine is known for.

Here is the view of our front yard from our living room window.

A side view from the window in my bedroom.

Kai decided he needed to look out the window, too. Perhaps he needs his own little camera?

Today—Monday, February 23—the sky is again a hazy shade of winter. A nor’easter is blowing up the coast, and this morning my daughter, who lives in Boston, wrote to tell me it is snowing so hard she can’t see the bridge from her window, a bridge that is usually visible.

South of us, in Portland, the nor’easter has hit with blowing snow and low visibility, but in central Maine, it has just begun to snow. The forecast is between four and eight inches. Again, no big deal for us.

For years, I wished we lived closer to the coast. I love the ocean and the sound of waves hitting the shore. The salt air and the cry of gulls. But now that the climate crisis is upon us, I am glad we live inland, where, as a rule, the storms aren’t as bad.

And although we live in a lakes region, not far from the Kennebec River, we live on a hill that keeps us high and dry when we do get storms. No flooding at our home at the edge of the woods. I wish I could write that this was our plan when we bought the house forty-two years ago, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was pure dumb luck. Always grateful when Chance is on our side.

Note: Long-time readers have been asking about Snow-Gauge Clif and when he will be featured on the blog. Well, I have some good news. Snow-Gauge Clif always makes his appearance on the first Monday in March and then on every Monday, usually into April, measuring the snow until it is gone. Next Monday is the first Monday in March. Stay tuned.

******************************************************************

Watching

How to Make a Killing

One of my blogging friends, Derrick Knight, mentioned in a comment that he can’t go to the movies anymore because he has to sit with his knees bent. I replied that in today’s post, I would show him why, with my creaky knees, I can go to the cinema and sit in comfort.

Here is the reason:

Our cinema has recliners, which I fondly refer to as Baracloungers, and they are oh-so-comfortable, especially for folks like me with creaky knees.

Our cinema, Regal, also offers a pass for $24 a month that lets us see one movie a day. Naturally, we don’t go to that many. We might be true-blue ciniphiles, but we have our limits. Usually, we see one movie a week, maybe two, depending on what’s showing. But even if we only see one, the cost is about $5 a movie, which is a wicked good deal.

Last weekend, we saw the crime thriller How to Make a Killing, a dark comedy about Becket, a young man from a rich family. Although his mother was banished, Becket is in line for a substantial inheritance, but other family members are ahead of him. What to do? Why kill them, of course. And that’s exactly what Beckett, played by the ever-charming Glenn Powell, sets out to do. Naturally, complications ensue along with a nifty plot twist at the end.

I’m only a little ashamed to admit that I enjoyed every minute of this movie, no doubt largely because of Powell’s charm. If you like dark comedy crime movies and shows, such as Burn Before Reading or Ripley, then you will probably like How to Make a Killing.

 

 

 

 

 

Cats, Celebrate, Fall

Some Good Things…

67 Comments

Readers must surely know that right now in the United States there is a constant fire hose of bad news that is covered, quite rightly, by various forms of media. No point in denying this bad news, and being somewhat of a news junky, I pay close attention.

But at least in my personal life, there are many good things happening too, and I hold on to them the way a person falling overboard might cling to a tossed life preserver ring. The good things help keep me afloat.

First and foremost, October in Maine. October in Maine is so glorious that it never fails to fill me with joy—that slant of sunlight reflected from the golden leaves; the deep blue sky made brilliant by the lack of humidity; the bursts of orange and red; the nutty smell of fallen leaves. I could go on and on singing the praises of October. And even this year, when the drought has muted the color of the changing leaves, it is still a wonderful month.

Here are pictures taken last week from my backyard.

A flash of red in the nearby woods,

yellow leaves against blue sky,

and the view from the patio.

Then there are the new cats, who despite their pesty ways with plants they shouldn’t be nibbling on, are bringing us so much joy and laughter.

Kai chilling on the cat tree
Little Fern helping me with my upcoming novel, Darcy Dansereau

 

Finally, there is another reason why October is such a special month for us: our eldest daughter Dee was born the end of October. We will be celebrating her birthday next Saturday with a trip to southern Maine, where we will meet our daughter Shannon and Mike. But that will be a story for next Monday.

 

 

 

 

 

Cats

One Heck of a Week with a Happy Caturday Ending

84 Comments

Last week was one of those weeks—nothing serious, thank goodness, but with some decidedly unpleasant moments.  We all have them, I know, and mine involved a trip to the dentist. I expect I could stop right here, and most readers would be able to sympathize. I won’t go into graphic details except to note I had a very difficult extraction that left me with a swollen face and an aching jaw. (Three more teeth to go, and then I’ll have an upper plate.)

To add to the fun, I had a Covid vaccine on Thursday. I was expecting a blah day on Friday, but my jaw was still bothering me so much that it masked whatever effect I might have had from the vaccine. I guess that comes under the category of “it’s an ill wind that blows no good.”

However the week ended on a much happier note: on Saturday, Dee adopted two cats from the Greater Androscoggin Humane Society. They are two years old, brother and sister, and obviously part Maine coon cat. The large one is the male, and Dee has named him Kai. The smaller one is his sister, and Dee has called her Fern.

Fern and Kai checking out the Narrows Pond Road.

 

Two sweeter cats you will never find, and Dee asked, “How could anyone give them up?”

“You don’t know the story,” I said. “So you can’t know the reason.”

But boy did we luck out with these two love bugs, who cuddle and purr on our laps. We were supposed to keep them isolated in a room for two weeks, but on the first day, Kai staged an escape, his sister followed, and that was that. They immediately became part of the household.

Dee, a cat whisperer, is in her element. Although Fern and Kai have bonded with all of us, Dee is the clear favorite. When a scary delivery truck pulled into our driveway, Fern bolted and hid under Dee’s bed until it was safe to come out.

The Humane Shelter can be a sad place with so many animals in cages waiting for a home, but it can also be a joyous place. As I was waiting for Dee to fill out the adoption paperwork, a mother with two adorable daughters came in looking for a small dog to take home.

“Come with me,” said one of the staff, and he led them to a room out back. I couldn’t see what happened next, but I sure could hear.

“Oh,” the little girls cried in piping voices, “you are so cute! You are so cute!”

I heard joyous barking, and I could imagine the scramble of paws as the little dog danced in the glow of their affection.

The man came out, leaving the mother and daughters alone with the dog, and we smiled at each other. I had tears in my eyes as I listened to the continuing happy commotion.

Sometimes, every once in a while, sad stories have a happy ending, and there were at least two that day at the Humane Society.

Lovely Fern on the sofa