Mr. Moon came home to get packed up and leave for auction and I made him his coffee drink and his popcorn and his snack bag and Maurice went into the bedroom to see him while he was packing and then turned around as soon as he spoke to her and walked out of the room as if she'd maybe been expecting to see Cary Grant or someone. Maybe Hugh Grant. I don't know. Hard to tell with cats.
She also came out to the garden while I was planting but when she realized I wasn't planting smoked turkey breast lunch meat, she left. That cat has the weirdest tastes. Last night I made a meatloaf from freaking grass-fed beef, may have even been organic and shit, and I gave her a tiny little morsel of raw beef and she turned her delicate nose up at it but if I give her some damn smoked turkey lunch meat she goes insane. She does love raw venison and cooked venison, as well, which is what we served her precious little orange ass the first night she showed up. Venison vegetable soup and she was so hungry and that's probably why she's living here. She also doesn't like plain yogurt but she'll arm-wrestle you for what's left in the Chobani lemon yogurt cup. And when I say arm wrestle, I mean she'll rip your arm off. She's such a charming kitty. And I adore her with all of my heart.
I love the rain. It's still falling but gently. I imagine the ground filtering the water through the dirt and the clay and the great oaks' roots soaking it up and the aquifer beneath us filling with pure, sweet water. It makes me feel, perhaps falsely, that all is right with the world or at least this tiny part of it. It's like the the opposite of the story of Noah- it's not the ending of the rain which promises a god's approval, but the falling of it. I do know this for sure- we had good rain this past spring and we've had decent rain this summer and in the ten years I've lived here, I've never seen such beautiful fall blooms, I've never seen quite the level of green we've been gifted with. And my seeds and plants will have a good start in the dark black dirt that I fortified with composted horse shit and my dream is to have so many greens this fall and winter and early spring that I can provide them for all of my children and for us and maybe there will be venison, too. My camellias are filled with buds and if there is anything which makes me look forward to winter, it would be that. My palms have all grown this year by leaps and bounds as well as my mulberry tree and long after I am dead, these things shall remain unless something truly unforeseen happens.
Well. Still raining. Air is cool once again. The doors are open.
What are you doing?