A woodpecker landed on portion of the trunk of the old catalpa tree that remains and began to drill on the bark for insect food. He was so focused on his work that he failed to notice young Trek, catnapping, nearby.
Today, this observer of little things watched a woodpecker die and another picture was painted on the canvas of my mind.
Two hours later, Trek lured me to his space in the little blue shed, and there before my eyes a half-naked corpse of his prey lie face up, reposing in state; his drill stilled, his body chilled.
I know that the young tom was proud of his trophy, but I saved my praise for another day, another time, a better reason.
Could be, his feelings was hurt. Trek forgot the ankle hug and the passionate purr. It was clear to me that the aloof yellow feline was neither worried about my thoughts on the matter or the scowl on my face. He took off and was gone all day.
I gathered up the little bird and the scattered feathers and wrapped them in a paper shroud, in preparation of cremation later. Then, I proceed to straighten up the fluffy cover in Treks crib. Beneath the old Fingerhut blanket, I found a shrew, (a nocturnal insectivores that looks like a mole, and of the same family, distinguished by a long pointed nose and little beady eyes).
I introduced the tiny fur ball to the dead woodpecker, but they were too stiff to be friendly. Then I got down on my knees and checked for more victims of the cunning fox in cat's clothing.
Toward the back of the box, this neat freak found two paint rollers and the wet and dry vacuum's filter. I chuckled and theorized that our boy isn't a cat. No, that guy is a rat, a pack rat.
Tonight he ate all of the cat food in his bowl and some of Gray's share too. All was right with us and we moved on, me and the cat's meow, my little Trek!
Paul and I have been very busy these early spring days, preparing the property for the mowing season. The tree work is time consuming and I am behind, in regard to wood splitting.
We decided to rebuild the dog pen that the first half of catalpa tree partially destroyed before we finish the before mentioned projects. It may not be a good thing to have the bird dog housed near the chicken pen when the golden comet hens move in.
Paul purchased a nice Craftsman dump cart for me today. Since I have to watch my step more than ever these days, I find it necessary to fill in all the rough spots in this big yard as a precautionary measure against falling. Rain, snow and burrowing animals have given me good reason to act, as soon as possible.
I decorated the little blue house at the end of the road, carried the spring and Easter theme throughout. I thought of my deceased loved ones, including my dear mother, they whom gifted me with most of these beautiful keepsakes through the years that I treasure so much.
I reflected on the days of my children's childhood, trips to Murphy's and Damns, with gifts for their mom in mind. The long - kept gifts are in view, the memories sweet and vivid.
My sister, Sandra Gallardo's hand works and other gifts add warmth to every room and more remind me of childhood treasures made by our grandmother, Edith Siner.
Paul Baby, my husband of fifty-one plus years has very good taste in regard to gift selections. He appreciates pretty things and good housekeeping, as much I do.
I remember when he was a route salesman for Seven-Up Bottling Company.
One afternoon, shortly after Easter, on the way in from Crawfordsville the young man in the green uniform stopped by our former home, on North Alabama Street and handed me a beautiful pitcher and bowl set, made by a pottery artisan, nearby Wabash College. I said, "What's the occasion?" He replied, "just because I love you, enjoy" and I have.
The larger pitcher and bowl sits in he spare bedroom on a beautiful cedar chest that my aunt the late Thelma Crouse bequeathed to me.
My treasure reminds me of antique set that sat on my paternal grandmother, Etta Lynch's antique washstand for many years.
These treasures are as precious as a miser's gold and this old house is a mansion to us. We enjoy life and home.
Paul will be 70 on April 6 and I will be the same come Nov. 4.
He works full time at Sears and I keep the home-fires burning. Together, we accomplish more and thank God for our many blessings each and every day.
The Sartor family sends our condolence to the family of Terri G. Hoffman.
I can be reached at 446-4852 or drop me a line to 613 North Elm St., 47834 or by email at email@example.com.