Autumn Cottage Diarist

Ring Out the Old, Ring In the New

It has been such a pleasure to share life here at Autumn Cottage with you all in 2005. The year has flown by, but is now preserved here in the "pages" of this blog, as a time capsule in words and pictures.

Look out soon for "Tales from the Summerhouse" - an additional blog from Autumn Cottage in 2006, in which I will share the pleasures of writing and watching the changing year in my little garden retreat. I hope you will come and sit awhile there with me.

But for now, with only two and a quarter hours of the Old Year left, may I wish you all a very happy, interesting and peaceful New Year for 2006.

Roz.

And Then There Was One....

Sintra, blissfully asleep on her sister's paw.

She was already The Huntress, The Wanderer. While Lissie sat, or slept, Sintra hunted and walked abroad.

And so it happened, that in the last few days before Christmas, I had not been attentive to closing the cat flap at dusk. It was not until feeding time, just before I went to bed, that I noticed that only one little one had come for supper.

I called, and called, (the searchlight torch failed and the night was
dark) - and snoozed and searched, until 5 am - when I finally fell
asleep, hoping that Sintra had been accidentally shut up in someone's
garage or shed, and would find her way home, hungry and tired.

At 8 am, I found her - just outside my neighbours house. It must have
been instantaneous - no marks to her body, but severe trauma to her
head.

Her short little life brought us such joy. Now, after her sister gave
her one last wash, she lies, six months old, along with my 16 year old
Spot, in the flower garden at Autumn Cottage.

It has been the saddest year for my cats.

Not Everyone Gets a Didgeridoo for their Birthday!

If you want to upstage Dad and brother on Mum's birthday - buy her one of these :-). This is my youngest son, Tim, (a Performing Arts student - what a surprise!) about to present me with "a little something" for my birthday. As you can see, he is a pretty colourful character - and has
been for the last 18 years, but he really did score a coup today.

There I have been for the last two weeks, clearing all the "stuff" out of my house to get ready for Christmas, and does he help - not one bit of it!!

Aside from all the banter, I give thanks today that I have such a crazy, loving family around me - isn't it a blessing that we can give each other gifts as daft as this and fall about laughing over it? That, in itself, is priceless. My other presents - a DVD writer from Alec, and a beautiful wooden carved vase and brass bracelet from my older son Hugh, are received with real pleasure - but only Tim would come up with a didgeridoo!

Angels from the Realms of Glory

Just a few of the cherubs who have come to perch on my mantle shelf for the duration of this Christmastide. Rescued as a job lot from the Red Cross charity shop, I think they resided previously in some gloriously twee hairdressers, as the odour of perm and hairspray was more than a little present when they were washed! Aren't they cute? (Well, they are for a couple of weeks.......)

I now have some trimmings up at Autumn Cottage - though the Chistmas Spirit is dragging its feet in arriving with me this year. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that both my sons are grown now, so there is little excitement of anticipation abounding. I also miss my mother, I think, more each year, rather than less. It's true - Christmas is more about family togetherness than almost anything else.

I will add more pictures if and when I add more trimmimgs - but for now, enjoy these images of a little Christmas cheer - (and a naughty little fluffy kittie helper!) here in the December countryside of North Hampshire in England.

Bathtime for Beautiful Babies

My little babies are not babies any more - they are HUGE! (That's a standard printer behind them)

This afternoon they "helped" the man that came to clean the oven. The morning was
spent trying to lock-break the bathroom cupboard, in which I have had to
resort to keeping the loo roll. If I do not do this, it seems to find
itself unrolled down the stairs, before being partially "killed" at the
bottom. I don't even mind one roll - but three in one day is a bit much,
even for these two.

The picture below was taken two minutes ago - it is sisterly bath time,
which is, even as I speak, morphing into "go for the throat" time.
......."Well, we're only practising being mousers, Mum - isn't that why we are
here?".

Yes - that, and to bring endless pleasure and joy, which they do, for
many hours of every day.

Methinks They Sometimes Doth Declutter Too Much

(Photograph of Sheila & John Peel taken from BBC website)

People laugh at me. I'm probably known as the Clutter Queen behind my
back, and yes, they (whoever "they" are) may well have a point..I have
vastly more "stuff" than I could ever need.
And yet, I have an uncomfortable feeling about parts of the passion for
"de-cluttering" that seems to have blossomed these days, fuelled by such
programmes such as "Life Laundry" and "Houses Behaving Badly".

I've been prompted to think about this by an article in the newspaper
today, referring to Sheila, widow of much loved DJ John Peel, who
died almost a year ago. She is quoted as saying that she cannot bear to
part with his record collection - and my first thoughts were "why on
earth SHOULD she?"

There still seems to be an assumption that people are delayed in
"getting over" a bereavement if they cannot start to part with the
possessions of the deceased. While it is true that it might be
impossible to retain all the items, the urging towards disposal can, I
think, do much more harm than good. In the case of bereavement, it MUST
be an act which is taken at the bereaved person's own pace, without
guilt being added to (some almost ALWAYS exists already if one is
bereaved) by outside pressure to "get rid of all that stuff".

But even in the case of household cleaning and clearing, it disturbs me
to watch TV programmes with people being pressurised to dispose of items
which may be trash to the makers and presenters, but are clearly highly
symbolic items to the person in question. I have seen real distress with
some people as they are urged to throw photographs, letters, and other
personal items into the "crusher" - when they would be better served by
help to process the memories associated with those items before they are
dispensed with. I wonder how much therapy is offered to participants? - I
would imagine the time scales and budgets within  which the programmes
are made do not stretch to include this act of compassion.

So a plea to the makers of these programmes....It may just be "stuff" to
the outside world, but to the subject, it is a real part of their life
that they are being asked to throw away - please, don't do it in the
name of "entertainment"!

"Walking in the Woods Again - Quite Chilly Today"

A short (15 minute) poem, written on my return from a morning walk, inspired by a text message sent while walking to another nature lover, Britt-Arnhild in Norway.

Walking in the woods again -
quite chilly today.
Squirrels, gathering,
leaping
tree to tree.
Leaves falling,
settling,
A drawing in.
The great cycle,
slowing, 
pausing for rest.

In the road ahead
a tiny, fragile, muntjac deer.
Hesitant,
tentative,
alert.

We, walking,
jogging,
lumbering humans
invade from both directions -
approaching,
encroaching.

Startled,
it makes a dart
into the bushes
and is gone.

Overhead now,
Traffic roaring,
A recent human gash
through trees.

But soon,
tentatively,
persistently,
seedlings,
saplings,
Muntjac...
Nature returns,
re-colonises,
restores,
recovers.

Kittie Drama at Autumn Cottage!

An unnerving few moments with the babies (who are now not such babies,
but still very vulnerable) this morning.

I've metioned the buzzards that fly over here before - there are usually
three or four of them in the vicinity, these days - I presume the two
parents and the two "chicks" (now not chicks any more!). I can usually
tell that they are around before ever I see them because I can hear them
calling.

This morning, I heard them louder than ever before - went outside the
back door, and there was one very low, right over the house, calling
excitedly to another that was just over the hedge, in the next field -
and a third in the middle distance. They seemed to be converging over
Autumn Cottage, with more and more determined and excited mewing to each
other as they did so. I had never seen them quite as close as this.

Suddenly, it dawned on me that this was not just a social call - I
looked round and both Lissy and Sintra were on the roof of the
conservatory - just about rabbit size, and just right for a meal for
four raptors.

I leapt onto a chair, grabbed Sintra and dragged her off the roof - then
ran up into my office and hauled Liss in through the windows.

Within two minutes of taking them in, the birds had glided off over the
fields and far away. I may have been being paranoid - but rather
paranoid than devoid - of kitties!

(Below - the fascination with how the water appears in the sink through the tap, how it dissapears in a different direction down the plughole, and the wonderfully gurgilaceous noises that it makes as it does both of these things is an endless source of fascination and mystery to Lissie and Sintra. )

Mouser!

At the grand old age of 12 1/2 weeks, Sintra has caught her first mouse! It is actually a vole from the garden, which has been brought in to the sitting room, presented, whipped away, tossed, growled at and rolled upon.

Lissy, meanwhile, follows her sister around with a faintly bemused expression on her face, approaching gingerly to see if she can be given "a little lend" to play with it herself. The growls and hurried retreat from Sintra, vole in mouth, quickly give her her answer - "you go and catch your own tiny furry thing, sistah, this one stays with ME!"

The Latest Toy

For those of you who are not thoroughly sick of my cooing over the kittens, here is Lissy, inside her latest toy. I say *her* latest toy, because she will not allow Sintra anywhere near her "crinkle bag", inside which lurks a glorious, catnip filled mouse. Hugh found her this evening, positively swooning at the scent of the herb filled mustelid! For now, Sintra has to make do with a string ball that has sprouted feathers and regularly gets tossed and killed by her  every few minutes.

This household becomes more bizarre by the minute - but I have to admit that I am thoroughly enjoying indulging the little kitties with amusing little toys that cost only pennies - and several that I have made out of scraps of carpet, plastic bags cut to shreds and old socks likewise have come completely free.

Anyone with any ideas for other hand made kitty-toys are warmly invited to share them here!