Visitors

"Care to share?" - asks a tentative Rascal of Manitou, whom we are still trying to figure out if he is really homeless or not. But he comes most days, twice a day, for snacks.


"Watcha got???" Hearing that snacks are being handed out - this little guy came by to see if it's really true. Here's hoping he has a loving home - what a cutie, huh?



As always, there's more to see at The Friday Ark and then Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

Spring Has Sprung!

The last week or so has been unseasonably warm, and most are already wearing spring coats, and as for boots, forget it! I refuse to put them back on this season! Here, Angel is stretching out in the sun, and despite the obvious snow in the background, everyone seems confident all traces of it will be gone soon.



A neighbour's cat also seems to be enjoying the warm rays, although that is not his owners vehicle - I took this picture as evidence in case any of mine were to be accused of leaving the tell-tale paw-prints!

And also at this time of the year, with the changing position of the sun through the living room window, the Amaryllis shine more brilliantly than ever.

As always, there's more to see at The Friday Ark and then Carnival of the Cats on Sunday.

In Memoriam

Today is my mother's birthday - she was born in 1921 in Poland. She passed away in 2004. I so love this photograph - maybe for what it doesn't tell me: where was this taken? How old was she? Was it taken before or after the war broke out? I suspect before. What was in her thoughts at this particular moment in time?

I have been reading a lot about the war lately - too much perhaps. I feel guilt for not having listened very much to my father's stories - and now he too is gone. But Mum never spoke that much about it all - and I can only wonder now what horrors she must have lived through, as I read first-hand accounts and memoirs - all on the internet now - all there as evidence - as memory - as memorial. And as an archivist by profession, I fully know how incredibly important it is for all these people to have recorded and shared their stories, however difficult it must have been.

I look at my face in the mirror and wonder how I would have fared in such circumstances: the fear, above all, must have been overwhelming. But, as they say, one never knows the incredible resilience of the human spirit. Thousands of courageous, and even kind acts were performed in those dark days - days full of seemingly endless misery and suffering. In face of such unimaginable evil - people carried on - and fought - and lost their lives. But many, by some miracle, survived to tell their stories.

And I, sitting at the dinner table on any given Sunday, hearing, but not listening, to Dad go on and on - I never let it in - until now. I would hope that somehow my father understands and forgives me.