Heavy rains were followed by intense heat along with steam bomb days. Fencing was being replaced on one side, concrete had been poured on the other, gardening was transforming from spring to summer and farm activities were at their usual high point. And a certain raccoon learned to come to the cat food when I called, “Kitty, kitty”. It was after dark, and at first, I thought he was our similarly colored cat. He turned around at my urging, surprising himself and me. Then he meandered on through the barn yard. He is a handsome young one, with a nice, full coat and a dark mask.
This week, he showed up with a small female and a kit in tow. I ushered them away and have since been wondering if the small female was the friend that Sylvia made a couple of winters ago. I felt a bit bad about that, given how sincerely Sylvia had been nice to that one. (Cats are complicit in this issue.) Since then, I’ve installed motion detector bulbs at outdoor lights where the fixtures weren’t already motion detectors, and I set out a couple of those ultrasonic devices that flash light for motion near the ground. If these are working, well, I suppose it could be worse. A few nights ago, I came upon Roger (raccoon) eating from the cat food again. He wasn’t very shy. I tried to explain that he wasn’t a cat and that this food was for cats. He listened well. Meanwhile, he continued stuffing his face, eating like a cat, then alternately sitting up and shoving it into his mouth with his hands. He wasn’t in the least discouraged, so I took a video and sent it to Greg and my nieces. I’m going to have to find a yet better way to feed the outdoor cats. Moving the tray outside of the barn into an open area did very little except to also feed the jays and crows. I had developed a rapport with the crows during the winter; we had a system where I would put out old bread or tortillas and they would clean it up – a good cooperative system. But now they were active where they shouldn’t be. A dog house may work for birds, but raccoons will require much more thought.
On Friday, I watched a squirrel eating a walnut on our small compost bin, then another. I waited to do the gardening task, to not disturb its enjoyment. Then it just sat still. It’s a very rare thing for a squirrel to simply sit still. After about 45 minutes, it laid down facing the creek east across the pasture. Even more rarely does a squirrel lapse into such continued stillness, close to the ground in an unprotected spot. It laid with its tail along and hanging off the compost bin, and it remained there for a couple of hours in apparent contentment as I did a few outdoor things on the other side of the house. This reminded me so much of when Jade, then Banner and Jade, then Banner would lie still in the yard listening to the sounds of nature and passing cars in a semi-meditative state. Then my chest tightened.
I had an errand to take care of in town and I stopped by the park for a two-lap walk. Happy Friday – it’s what we would have been doing, although much earlier. The park was largely cleaned up after the storm damage, but there are many short pieces of small limbs strewn everywhere. And I had noticed how exposed Marlin Perkins now was. This day, there was a couple standing near him and taking pictures. I commented that it was nice that he had company since he was more lonely now. They visited with me and said they were planning to move to Carthage in a year after they retire. Nice. Still making new friends at the park.
I had decided to turn the area where we buried Jade into a rock garden, and I needed the landscape fabric that was leaning against the tree near the squirrel, where I had covered some garden area. I went through the garage to peek again at the squirrel, and I forgot to close that door quietly. It sat up at the sound and turned its head, but it was still not disturbed. After a moment, I came back inside and pulled out a cold glass bottle of root beer, and waited a little longer.
Greg and I were planning to go to Wichita the next day for a great-nephew’s first birthday. We would need to leave very early, be there for a couple of hours, then return before 4 p.m. to go to Springfield. We had decided to attend only one of the Tent Theatre performances this year. This one had to be on a Saturday instead of a Friday, which happened to be on Banner’s 11th birthday, and shortly after our anniversary. Greg texted that he was stuck in Chicago and was being re-booked for a flight the next morning. Had he gone through Dallas, he could have driven home, and we could have picked up the car in Springfield after the play. He arrived about 1:30 p.m. on Saturday. We went over a few questions and issues, and debated about how to dress for “business casual” at the restaurant’s requirements but wear shorts for the play, which was under a big circus tent for forty-some years but now has a permanent pavilion, courtesy of John Goodman, who also attended school there.
When we arrived, we ran into another person who shows Newfs. I used to run into people I knew there once in a while, but the older I get, the less often that occurs. Maybe we both look older and don’t see familiar faces, but more likely, there are fewer of us at the same plays. These days, the weather during summer is hotter, and there are fewer people who dress formally, wearing evening gowns. Fans were added many years ago. The pavilion has a raised ceiling, and the cooling by fans works better. Or, when you are engrossed in a performance, you are less aware of the heat and humidity. For this performance, an audience member was introduced who had been nominated for an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in the movie version of this play, Crimes of the Heart. Upon request, Tess Harper stood up to be recognized. Very nice. There were several successful, or very successful, actors who graduated within a few years of each other. There must have been some inspiring instructors there who helped people maximize their talent.
We had steaks that are produced near us in Ft. Scott and prepared at a restaurant that also knows how to maximize potential, then Greg decided that he wanted a coffee. As we walked back toward the car, we would be passing near our favorite coffee shop. When we arrived, it was closed, so we walked the other direction to the Mudhouse. I decided against changing into shorts, and while Greg was changing, I perused the flyers on their corkboard. Lyle Lovett will be in Camdenton soon, but aside from the Tent Theatre, July travel doesn’t sound like fun. Hermann MO has a “wine trail” tour, and now Springfield has a “coffee trail”. I hadn’t realized there were so many coffee shops there! And heretic that I am, I order coffee from a roaster in Oregon, but I’m always looking for a good coffee shop. If I ever write about travel destinations, it will include coffee shops as a primary attraction. The host, rather barista, asked whether I wanted anything, and she mentioned that they had some eclectic beverage options. Coffee houses often do. I commented that the Raspberry Beret Latte sounded interesting and pointed to the sketch on the slate, using white chalk with raspberry and light blue accents, but I said that I was waiting for someone and didn’t want anything. The young guy behind her said that he didn’t get the reference. I said, “Where were you 30 years ago?” and grinned. 30 is a generation; 40 may be out-of-touch. He was, of course, in his late teens or early 20s. The barista said that she wasn’t born then, but she knew who Prince was. I told her about stopping during a trip to get a Bose bluetooth speaker when we heard the news of his death so we could listen to his music for the trip. (This was before the van had iPod connector ports, which are now also out of date.) I said that when we got to the meeting, the lights began flickering and producing purple hues. (This actually occurred, and someone had commented something about Prince. We were in Sioux Falls, not in MN, but the relevance didn’t escape notice.) The young guy said, “Oooh, spooky”. I think he’ll be looking for some Prince music now.
We got back around midnight. I went out to feed the cats, having decided to try odd hours so the cats could eat with less competition from raccoons, who have learned feeding times. One cat isn’t recovering well from Bobcat fever, and the other male cat, our large “Orange Tiger” – the name of a Newf toy, has been lying near the food, to discourage the riff-raff so Dierk could eat. These two had periodic dust-ups at one time but became friends. Animals have more compassion for each other than most people realize. I saw something scurry from the patio faster than Dierk would be moving, and it went into the Cat Cave, an opening under our bedroom patio that I had built for cat cover. I got a flashlight and found a young possum in the far corner. It isn’t easy to explain the concept of “No trespassing” to wildlife, but the Jet setting on the water hose was a good discourager and an event that I hope it remembers. I went to the other side of the house to feed Sylvia and a small brown bird flew in, possibly confused by the bright light in the open door. I didn’t want to walk back into the room and have to get the bird back out from multiple rooms, so I called Greg and had him close the door on the other side. Even trapped in a small room, several efforts were needed to get the bird out, as it kept coming back inside. Perhaps wildlife aren’t thinking clearly in the distress of the heat. This wasn’t a type of bird that is usually active at night. For some reason we stayed up longer, and we found a Seinfeld rerun, the “master of your domain” episode. This morning, we are baking Banana Cake, in memory of Banner and her fondness of this cake, our first opportunity but a day late for what would have been her 11th birthday.
