Salmon-colored azaleas

These smaller Kurume azaleas in the front yard are in almost-full bloom here on March 31, 2011. The warm weather from a couple weeks ago told them it was time to bloom; although it's been cold and rainy this week, seeing these beautiful blooms makes my heart warm. Once they're done flowering (in about a month), Mom and I will dig them up and replant them at her house under the pine trees, where they'll be much happier under high shade and planted in acidic soil in a large side yard.

Still-Life with Cat Butt

The 'Joseph's Coat' climbing rose is just now getting started on its blooming season, and of course I had to take a photo of it. Smokey wanted in on the action; I'd hoped to get his other end, though, before he walked away.

Chicken Monday: 3/28/11

PEEPS!!1!! These tiny yellow-feathered orbs called out to me at the farm supply store on Saturday when I came in to buy chicken feed for the Fab Four. As Mom says, it's "peep season." Springtime is hatching time, and baby chicks are in high demand among many home poultry enthusiasts. So I have to be extra-careful not to visit the feed-and-seed store for six or seven weeks in the early spring, lest I come back to the HKC with a cardboard box full of chirping fluffballs. Sadly (but probably wisely), I left Small Town Farm Supply peep-less, and returned home with 100 pounds of cracked corn and layer pellets to a bevy of pissed-off cats: "No peeps? WTF is wrong with you, lady?!?"

Happily, these pullet (female) chicks are a few of only 28 left! The clerk said that the store had sold out of their hundreds of peeps rather quickly this year; perhaps some of these folks are starting their own home egg-laying flocks? That's my hope, anyway. If that's actually the case, I see it as REAL progress. (Like my Mom and me, I know quite a few E&P readers garden, or raise chickens in the back yard, or preserve fruits and vegetables every summer in the name of self-sufficiency and responsible agriculture. And a special shout-out to longtime reader Orchidophile, who lately has been planning her 2011 garden and dreaming of chickens!)

Anyhow, this tub of peeps had a large sign taped to it: "Hold 20 red chicks, special order," and that's what made me think sustainable food practices have a fighting chance in Small Town. Although they're solid yellow now, these adorable little boogers will all grow up to be Rhode Island Reds, Red Stars, Brown Leghorns, and a few other brown/reddish-brown breeds.

A quiet moment with Amber

On the can. No, I'm/we're not really using the loo here; I was toting Amber around the rear portion of the house when she got a little panicky, and I decided I'd sit us down on the terlet lid and snap a photo of my glossy-furred, super-floofy, almost-solid-black kitty.

More on the floor!

The living-room floor, that is. Here we have another photo of my newly-discovered red oak living room floor. Who would have thought such beauty was hiding under that nasty 40-year-old carpet? To the left: the area Mom and I cleaned a few weeks ago with the floor-scrubbing machine. To the right, next to the carpet on which I'm standing: the floor in much the same state as when we first pulled up the carpet in January. Even though the "clean" floor still has plaster, paint, and ground-in coal dust all over it, it's really pretty. Chances are that a fine-grit sanding belt will take care of nearly all the gunk. That's comforting to know!

Friday Kittehs: 3/25/11

This morning (and most other mornings, for that matter), Joy purrs and semi-snoozes at the foot of my bed. In the upper left-hand corner of the photo, in the plastic box, Smokey snoozes on a couple of old blankets.

Happeeeeeeee!

So happy that she's drooling! That's my Kamakura. She enjoys spending a little time indoors every now and then; here, she sits in my lap purring and knitting, sometimes accidentally on my bare leg. Ouch, kitteh! (Summer-weight, green John Deere-print bathrobe courtesy of Mom.)

Monday Chickens: 3/21/11

Henrietta (left) and Leroy always come runnning to meet me when I step into the chicken yard. The two young pullets, Henrietta's babies from June 2010, are a funny pair. (No, I still haven't named them. Bad chicken mama! Bad!) The smaller of the two will usually come "talk" to me after Leroy sounds the all-clear, but her larger, darker-feathered sister is usually hiding in the chicken house regardless of the weather or what goodies I have in my hand. This sweet, shy girl is actually laying eggs, averaging six or seven a week, but so far I suspect Henrietta is no longer egging. The more outgoing little hen has laid eggs in the past, but lately I've seen zero evidence that she's still doing so. Chickens need to step it up! Three hens should equal 21 eggs per week during peak laying season. Of course, chickens also don't give even one-tenth of a damn about "should" or "ought to."

Kamakura and Erngeakura

Ernge sits in my lap and purrs while I scratch her head; her mother, Kamakura, wants in on the action. After I took this photo, Ernge got up to take a bath at the other end of the porch, and her mama leaped up into my lap, purring up a storm.

Best. Picture. Of Joy. EVAR.

Isn't it funny how the best photos turn up when you least expect them? Joy began licking her toes mid-bath last night, and suddenly the goofy, crooked-eared kitten I used to know reappeared, replacing for a few moments the shy, somewhat frail "senior" kitty. The photo probably needs to be on I Can Has Cheezburger, though I have not the first good caption idea. Oh, and the rooster picture in the background? It's salvaged wood and acrylics, painted by a Florida artist who calls himself Mojo. The caption reads, "Nobody Loves Mornings More Than A Rooster."

Friday Kittehs: 3/18/11

Forgive me if you've already seen this SQUEEEEE!-filled video on Cute Overload. I don't speak Japanese and therefore can't tell you what's going on in this clip, or WHY the TV show hosts felt like they needed to have a bunch of kittens rolling around and in and out of beautiful ceramic rice bowls, but—oh, who cares? Just watch it!


Posted on JapanProbe.com
Uploaded by probeeden. - See video of the biggest web video personalities.

Confused kitteh is confused.

Not really—at least I don't think he's confused. Davy (also known as Hook) is part-Siamese and very cross-eyed. As with Moo, this is his "default" everyday expression.

Hook was a holy terror when he was an indoor cat, harrassing the elderly cats such as Joy and the late Graya, and causing all kinds of trouble as our resident Phantom Crapper. Now that he lives outdoors, though, he's a very sweet kitty. Like his brother Ernest, he's a homebody and generally doesn't venture very far from the front porch; only once in a while do I catch him walking back to the Happy Kitten Cottage from across the street. When I first put him outside, he weighed well over 20 pounds and looked as if he'd swallowed a bsketball. Passers-by would stop in their tracks on the sidewalk and exclaim, "WOW! When are the kitties due?" or "Hey, that cat looks like Garfield!" Hook's not much smaller today (he probably weighs 18 pounds), but the improvement in his personality is worth its weight in gold—or, umm, cat food.

HAPPY 62nd BIRTHDAY, MOMMY!

The best goddamn mom in the whole universe turns 62 today! And you know what that means, right? "Time to start ordering the 64-ounce value-size prune juice by the case?" No, umm— "Mom's going for her first tattoo, a big biker-type, bar-and-shield thing that says LIVE TO SEW, SEW TO LIVE?" No, it's not— "She now considers Senior Discount Wednesday at the grocery store a full-contact sport?" Well, no, but— "Getting Mom totally falling-down drunk at the White Tail Pub & Taxidermy Service, and then cutting donuts in the Wal-Mart parking lot while she moons everyone out the window?" Uhh, not this birthday, anyway... What it means is that our lives have been blessed with another year of our awesome Mom, who sews fabulous clothes, builds handy stuff, gives helpful (and hilarious) advice, cooks fantastic meals, and adopts multitudes of kittehs! EPIC MOMMY WIN! Here, Mom snuggles a sweetly-purring Yoda, whom she calls "Bestest Kitteh EVAR." Naturally, she made the hat herself and has been selling a lot of them lately. Inquire within (read: in the Comments) if you'd like to buy one; many different prints and colorways to choose from, and several different styles from snowboarder/beanie style to sophisticated & chic. And yes, this is product placement, on Mom's birthday, for her handicrafts—aside from good health, world peace, lots of laughter, and/or a winning lottery ticket, what better birthday gift than helping Mom make a living doing something she enjoys? Well, okay. One box of Godiva chocolates, coming right up.

Oh, Ernge. You're so long-suffering.

Erngeakura (aka Ernge) is so put-upon and beleaguered—all Mama ever wants to do is snuggle that kitty and pet its soft orange ears. "I sacrifice, and I sacrifice, and what thanks do I get?!?" she seems to be saying. However, I'll have you know that she was indeed purring up a storm in my lap when I took this picture. Ernge is one of Kamakura's last litter of kittens from four years ago; her sisters are Moo(akura) and Stripe(akura). When the girls started their first heat cycles, I didn't have the money to get all three spayed...nor the finesse and hand-eye coordination to catch anyone but Moo. So Stripe eventually had a litter, as did Ernge. When their kittens were weaned, I took each mama cat to the vet to put a stop to all the [ahem] "littering." But back to the cute story. Ernge had given birth to her kittens elsewhere in the neighborhood, and I didn't even know what had become of her until she showed up on my front porch one day all hungry, skinny, haggard, and droopy-boobed. "What you do wif your bebehs?" I asked her. "Hmm? You gots bebehs? Why you not bring dem here, hmm? I takes care of evvybody, like I did wif you and your mama." All Ernge said was Crunch-crunch-crunch with her head stuck in a dish of cat food. A few weeks later, I was in Nashville, Tennessee, on a research grant when I got a call from Mom. She had stopped by to check on the cats while I was out of town. "Guess what? Ernge came back...and she brought FIVE little bebeh kittehs! She's got 'em hidden under the azalea bush by the bedroom window! She's been moving kittehs ALL DAY from wherever she had them before, 'cause there were only four when I checked earlier. You better come home and see these KITTEHS!" As the old cliche goes, the rest is history. I was at least able to get Ernge and two of her girls, Emmylou and Dolly, spayed. They still hang around the Happy Kitten Cottage, being sweet and putting up with my cuddling them at feeding time.

Nesto!

Ernest (also known as Ernesto, Nesto, and El Ernesto Grande) is much sweeter, though still very skittish and ornery, since he became a strictly-outdoor kitteh. He's long, skinny, and not very muscular, but that doesn't stop him from holding his own outdoors. Well, okay, maybe it does—it's rare that he ventures more than 30 feet from the front porch. But better a homebody with a meow you can hear three houses away than a flat, greasy spot in the road, right? Right. Ernest has never been much of a snuggler. Even as a frightened and hungry stray kitten, he could tolerate being held for only so long, and then it was time to struggle out of my arms, get back onto the floor, and stick his head into the food bowl again. And that's okay with me. Still, I like to pick up and hold each of my cats once in a while, so Ernest and I play a game I call "Cranking the Nestomobile." To crank the Nestomobile, I pick up Ernest and hold him firmly in my arms. At the first growl (about 60 seconds in), I give his body a shake. The effect is not unlike the sound of my dad's ragged-out, pea-soup-green '69 Dodge pickup on a cold morning: "Wrr-rr-rr-rr-RR! Wrr-rr-rr-rr-RR-rrr! WrrRRR...rrrt. Rrr." Then I let him go, wondering aloud, "Arrgh! Why can't I get the Nestomobile cranked?!? Hope I didn't strip the starter again." Ernest's a good sport. And a beautiful kitty, too. He probably doesn't even mind the cherry-print, Mom-made bathrobe background. As long as I'm not holding him, he's pretty happy. He was purring softly when I snapped this photo.

Disappointed Friday Kittehs: 3/10/11

This week has been nothing but kitteh posts here at E&P, so why stop now?!? Besides, it's not as if I have a shortage of them. My proverbial cup overfloweth when it comes to cats. Many of you know Martha Ann (aka Squirrel) here, and her constant, unremitting disappointment in anything and everything. In this picture, it's the camera-phone flash letting her down. No, wait, it's the clash between the leopard-print fleece and the multi-colored crocheted blanket. Or the fact that Mama had still not fed everybody canned kitty food when I took this photo at 10:53 last night. Or the cold, windy weather. Or the daffodils in the side yard that are planted way too close together and can't bloom. Or the merits of cream versus solid deodorant. Or how much she misses the C3 generation Corvette. Life's so hard for Squirrel. [disppointed kitteh sigh]

Mooakura at breakfast

Mooakura was born into Kamakura's last batch of kittens four years ago. She's never been a very friendly cat; she would just as soon hiss and take a swipe at your face as meow a hello. But that's what a lot of E&P readers love about Moo—she brings the ornery. If any of the outdoor cats here at the Happy Kitten Cottage needs an attitude adjustment, Mooakura happily provides one, free of charge. She considers it a service to the community. And that priceless expression on her face? Not angry. It's just her default setting.

Any port in a storm

Or bed, in Kamakura's case. Today's weather in Small Town is very stormy, and naturally Kamakura didn't really want to be out in the rain and wind. Instead of hiding out under the porch as usual, she meowed to come indoors this morning just as the first wave of heavy rain began. Two hours later, she's still doing all right, and there's been only a little hissing and growling. Before migrating to the bed, where Joy and Clark snoozed alongside her, Kamakura sat on the arm of the recliner and purred as I graded papers.

Armageddon approaches

In the seat of the recliner: Beignet. On the back of the recliner: her sworn enemy, Smokey. They stayed this way for another 45 minutes, until Beignet got bored and headed for the living room window. Mind. BOGGLED.

Unexpected Impressionist (Zen!)

Looking through the windshield as I took advantage of a discounted drive-thru car wash at a gas station yesterday afternoon. Nothing else to do in the car wash except sit back and take a deep breath—funny how even the most mundane of moments holds the promise of peace and happiness.

Friday Kittehs: 3/4/11

Kigi (also known as Big Nasty, for his poor grooming habits and the huge, dirty knots that often dot his fur) gives us his haughtiest expression before digging into the cat food in his "crystal" dish. Perhaps he's upset that it's not Fancy Feast? Yeah, that's it.

More spring daffodils

These daffodils bloom cheerfully next to the front steps, where I planted them nearly 12 years ago during my first autumn at the Happy Kitten Cottage. Like the daffs in other parts of the yard, it's time to dig and divide them. The two large white oaks that shade my front yard also make it nearly impossible for most of my daffodil bulbs to flower, so once these finish blooming, I'll move them to the sunnier south yard.

Speaking of oak trees: Mom, in a flash of horticultural insight, figured out why the azaleas in my front and north yards have been dying over the last few years. The oaks' roots have slowly made their way into the azaleas' beds—some of them 40 or more years old—in search of nutrients and water, and the tiny reddish-brown masses of baby oak roots has been strangling the azaleas bit by bit. So we're working on a new strategy for the front yard plantings, and in the coming months will probably dig up and move to the pine-shaded edge of Mom's yard most (if not all) of my smaller front-yard azaleas.