Marmalade Cat spends all her time on the bed in The Coupe. In fact I think she thinks that The Coupe has been built just for her. 
She is thinking of taking up a career in modeling.
Marmalade is developing quite the mouth. I think we are going through A Stage. And yes, you are right, previously I thought she was a boy (the vet told me so.. what was I to think)… But really she is a girl.. does this remind you of anything!?
Daisy is still waiting quietly for the milking season to begin. The snow melted somewhat yesterday. So everyone is getting muddier. 
While Sheila went out and splurged on a new pair of boots. (not all the ice is melted)
And the chickens wish they had boots as ALL their ice has melted.
I came home last night after being OUT and driving everyone BACK. And then they were all settled except for me who wanted to be Out again, I grabbed the torch and slushed my way through to the barn and out the other side. And there was Daisy laying outdoors, in the yards. The house was sleeping, the clouds were drooping, the barn-doors leaning, the dogs in moon-sung shadows, the hens huddled watchful. Cluck. Queenie’s heavy breathing. The quiet was like an ebbing sea, a drawn breath, almost there, always there. The moon as silvery as they say. The barn was drifting, unmoored, lost into the sky. Pregnant.
In my going out boots and going out jeans I found Paisley Daisy in the almost full moon, laying in the moons tree shadow. In the cold. I knelt and I laid my head on her warm haunches and then up across her huge hard belly. She hauled in a bellows breath and let it out like gentle wistful candle light. Sleep baby, she said. I will be here in the morning. She said. I wanted to sleep with her. I felt sad with wintryness. Sad from too much life. Sad beyond your ken. Sad that does not mean sad but means lonesome. Like Lone. Like Some. Like Us. Lost in the waiting.
Bed, she said. But I need to close your doors against the night, I thought. You have to go inside. In case the calf comes. Bed, she said. So I did. I went. To bed.
your
celi
The Kitchen's Garden 
52 responses to “Walkabout To Bed”
The mud, though nasty and everywhere, is a real good sign. Spring is coming, Celi. The sooner the mud comes, the sooner it will leave and the green will follow behind it. (I’ll pretend I didn’t see tonight’s weather report.) Hope she can wait until Monday or Tuesday. Fingers crossed. 🙂
Would we understand joy and happiness if some moments in life were not sad . . . you shared some such moments with Paisley Daisy in ‘moon-sung shadows’ in loving care one of the other . . . that too is OK!! And somehow I always knew Marmalade was a lady and so many times had to erase ‘she’ at the last minute from my writings. Must admit she photographs beautifully – don’t tell her and give her even a bigger head . . .
I do agree, sad has to have happy, and happy has to see sad or we would be numb.. ni ni eha mama.. c
ni ni, beautiful lady . . .
You have such a magical way with words! “Moon-sung shadows” … and going out jeans … and going out boots … Paisley Daisy in the almost full moon. I DELIGHT in finding new posts on your site! I hope you enjoy the ‘letting free’ of your phrases as much as I do the ‘catching them’ on this end! (By the way – won’t it be nice when you won’t have to put on so much for your going out jeans and your going out boots! WILL this winter end?!)
Thank you, I am so glad you are out there to catch the words I throw. I love language and have never been terribly good with rules.. OH YES. soon, I will be onto the going out skirts and going out Legs!! I can’t wait. I bet you can’t either.. c
Ah, yes, that reminds me of Miss Tilly. Marmalade has become a gorgeous kitty, and Marcel is almost as big as Boo already! Great picture of Marcel up top.
Oh this is so touching. You are sad with waiting. But spring and new life will be here very soon and this winter ordeal will be consigned to the back cupboards or the basement.
Beautiful piece, Celi, the writing catches my heart… like the moon always does when I go out to look at it over the sea here, standing in the cemetery above the harbour. Both Marmalade and Marcel do Boo great credit… he’s done a wonderful job with them both – and you too of course… hope hope hope the spring is waiting to surprise you any day, with love from a cyclone battered New Zealand
Marmalade heard you were doing calendars 😉
I’m with Daisy. No, not about to give birth, but I do love to bask in the moonlight. Love when it shines through the window onto the bed, and white flowers in the garden to catch its beams.
The heart-piercing joy of immersion in melancholy is hard to describe adequately—at least, by lesser writers. You, Celi, have a rare gift, and sing the argent beauty so ardently that none of us can remain in doubt of its peculiar wonders. Thank you. Embracing you, Daisy, and all of your company on the farmy with great affection and anticipation!
xoxo,
Kathryn
“I am so glad you are out there to catch the words I throw. I love language and have never been terribly good with rules.”
What a perfect recipe for poetry!
And the photographs are special. The whole thing is special. Inspiring. I feel blessed to have this chance each day, but especially today, to get close to the world of animal-beings, weather, earth itself, and of course the moon. Thank you, Celi. You are a gift.
We had a kitten years ago which we called Marmaduke, then when we found out he was a she, she became Marmalade. My Italian dad struggled with such a long name and she became Honey instead! Your Marmalade is a real pin up pussycat! Do hope you got some sleep miss c.
She is a beautiful kitty. We had a cat that started out as Billie Holiday until one day we found something that turned out not to be a slug stuck to her fur and she became Billy Eckstein (male singer:) And no thanks to the vet either.
And I’ve been told, several times, that ginger cats are only ever boys. I’m confused now! 🙂