Early mornings at the mouse-house
is a time that I like to take my cup of coffee outside to check on the gardens.
Because we live in the country, there are often feeders knocked over, branches on the ground and dirty paw marks across the butter-coloured lawn chairs.
Raccoons have been here to grab some apple slices and any seed left over from the day.
I don't mind at all as there are many with young ones and they are all hungry.
After tidying up, checking on the gardens and filling the 4 bird baths, I sometimes head back to the grave-site for my beloved cats that have passed away over the years.
It gives me a time to reflect
and I find it very peaceful.
We just recently laid to rest our dear Sierra.
I still feel the need to stand and look at her grave to have the reality of her death sink in.
It still feels unreal to me.
She was here on this property for one year only and now she's gone.
And so suddenly.
Sierra lived 13 years and to some that may seem like a long cat life but not to me. I have enjoyed the company of cats that have lived for over 20 years.
I wanted that for her.
So I still tear up as I water the ground that surrounds her spot,
add a few more shade-loving plants
and think of her sweet personality;
her love for us.
The wall behind the grave-site was built by my ancestors over 100 years ago.
It looks out over our neighbour's pasture.
It's a humbling experience for me to stand here and think of all the hard work done by hands of generations before me.
They built this wall while clearing the land.
All the cats that I have shared my life with in the last 40 years lie in peace here.
It's a place I feel connected to them; I remember them all so vividly when I stand here.
I recall their softness; their beautiful eyes.
I thank them for their love and companionship
and tell them I miss them everyday.
And I do.
Every.single.day.
Each and everyone of them.
On my way back up the path, I was greeted by a grey squirrel
who was busy at the feeder.
I guess the early squirrel
gets the seed here.
Cheeky devil.
hugs, Deb