Still life with fur

A precedent is a pretty silly thing to set!

Once upon a time, my cats, Sylvie and Sellie, were happy with the odd scratch, maybe every other day. Maybe just an absent-minded scritch behind the left ear. Not anymore. No siree ... Not any more.

Now, they come to me. And if I pay scant notice, they sit on my keyboard and thwack my cheek. Whadda we want? A scritch. When da we wanit? ... you get my drift.

However, I have come to realise there is lots in this for me. Less hair inside, for starters. Less asthmatic reaction, for seconds. And a very healthy, toned pair of cats into the bargain.

Now to the mug of coffee ... I used to make my own each morning. Just Moccona and hot water with a dash of milk. Not any more. Jools has wisened up - past participle of 'to wizen'. She now nips across the bus layby and into the corner shop for a 'large flat white, no sugar' for $3.80. And what a delight it is, and I only need one to keep me going all day!

Finally, here is a bud forming on a segment of the Holiday Succulent that I was given over the weekend. What joy!

Alleyway dreaming

Snuggling up

As a child, physical pleasure accompanied the onset of a storm: the lull brought with it a smell of renewal; the pressure in the air bubbled the blood; and, even Daisy the Jersey milchcow, gamboled across the home paddock.

This afternoon, as the downpour was unleashed, my Sylvie burrowed further into the mountain of pillows on my bed, as she kept her eye on the tumult visiting her normally quiet and composed outlook.

Rear courtyard

The owner, who lives next door, was working on this terrace as I clambered over to check it out as rentable. It suited my social-conscience, was inexpensive and had dirt. I must have dirt.

To my chagrin, he replaced the ramshackle back fence with a roller-door which is getting more onerous as the months roll on. This is the backdrop for my Sylvie - aged 9 and named for my paternal g'ma - as she listens to the wind creak the hanging baskets (geranium, mint and succulent). Behind her, in the pots, is tangible evidence of my European excursions: a tub of lime, lavender and fig. I will show you the lemon and the olives later. Christine and I have just about agreed to return to Italy in the northern spring of 2010.