August in Bloom

Amaryllis "Matterhorn"...



A simple bouquet in the sun...



Impatiens balsamina...very prolific/invasive, but lovely, and the bees LOVE them...

Daylily "Jen Melon" - a gorgeous shade of melon yellow.

Cat in Marble: Georges Gardet 1907

As an archivist, loving all things vintage at work and at home, I was happy to have made this recent purchase. It is breathtaking in its simplicity, and the fur looks almost real (click on the picture to enlarge and you will see what I mean). This is a superb study of a young cat with an outstretched precocious paw ready to tip the origami and indeed makes me think of the precocious Tristan who loves to nonchalantly toss things off tabletops.

And after having done a bit of "research" on sculptor Georges Gardet, I feel especially pleased to have something of his works, albeit only a humble postcard of "Jeune Chat" (young cat). I wonder where this piece is today???

Georges Gardet (1863 - 1939) was born in Paris, France on October 11^th 1863. He was a highly talented sculptor whose early studies were with his sculptor father, Joseph, and Aime Millet. He was influenced early in his career by the works of Emmanuel Fremiet whom Gardet studied under at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. Big game animals fascinated Gardet and his detailed treatment of these subjects is reflected in this interest. His fascination with animals was not limited to just the large wild ones as he did a number of small works of domestic animals and even a few private commissions of "pets" also. All of his animals are executed in an extremely powerful vein, each having an individual character of its own unlike many of the other sculptors of his day who were coldly producing static animals in bronze. His subjects are proud and romantic and this combined with his very high technical standard of detail and finish leaves a lasting visual effect. Occasional glimpses of the late Barye's influence are found in the treatment of his combat groups.

He started to exhibit at the Salon des Artistes Frances in 1883 at the age of twenty, and continued exhibiting throughout his long carrier, culminating in the Grand Prix at the 1900 Exposition Universelle. His monumental works include a Bison and Jaguar for the entrance of the Museum of Laval in 1892, Lions to ornament the stairways of the Alexandre III bridge on the Right Bank in 1900, as well as several monumental commissions for private Chateaux through France. Not all of his models were cast in bronze, many were originally carved in marble and a few were done in Onyx and only reproduced as bronze reductions for the most popular groups. Many of his works were produced in unglazed porcelain by the Sevres factory. He is considered by many as the finest animal sculptor of the late Animalier period.

Source: http://www.bronze-gallery.com/sculptors/artist.cfm?sculptorID=23

Manitou - Flooftail in motion

In the Garden Today

Luscious daylilies after the rain....I am beginning to collect many different cultivars - so many gorgeous types are available now...

The Heatwave, and a Confession

So, I have to confess, I have tried not to warm up to Tristan. Chesney really, really didn't like him, and I have been harbouring - perhaps - some resentment that he somehow chased Chesney away. Only people with experiences with multi-cat households can fully understand how these things can play out,sometimes badly. In between my sorrow for my missing Ches - the horrible heatwave arrived. Extreme heat that didn't relent at night. And one evening just before bed, seeing Tristan lying on the floor looking like he was half expired, I picked him up and wrapped him in a cool damp towel, and held him in my arms for several minutes. In those few minutes I realized I loved little Tristan - already, and in spite of what my so-called rational brain was telling me.

And he has proved to be quite the little trickster. Needing some some work done on our chimney this week, a ladder was left against the house. So as I was getting ready for work this week, looking out the second story bathroom window, I heard some strange sounds and then - whose head do I see peeking up at me from the top of the ladder, but little Tristan's. What a sight that was!! Although he was "rescued", a part of me was tempted to see if he actually could make it back down on the ladder.

Indeed there were days this week that I seriously wished it would snow! I went to bed with a damp towel around my neck and a damp facecloth on my forehead. Sleeping was a misery - and I felt exhausted all the next day. Luckily I have AC at work, but getting there on public transit was horrible.

Like a Little Girl....

But lately I see her ribbons and her bows
Have fallen from her curls [....]
[...] she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.
(Bob Dylan)

One Month...and on...

The one-month date has come and gone, and Chesney is still gone/vanished. People around me try to console and say that he probably got picked up by someone who fell in love with him etc etc. I try not to dwell on the darker possibilities, but they are there, and always will be unless I find out for sure, and it doesn't look like I will. I wonder why fate would have sent me this gift, to console me for the sudden untimely loss of Timmy last fall, only to take Chesney the same way - suddenly? Cruel. A shadow has been cast over this spring and summer season.

But life goes on (*sigh* - I sometimes hate that silly, trite expression), and I have others than need my care and love. I also have an enormous garden, and lots to plant as I write, and some days it seems like a looming chore rather than a pleasure. But I love the cats and the plants too much to let any be ignored, so on I go.






This piece of salvage was intended for my various gardening pots and accessories, but as you can see, the fluffy ones, Manitou and Mr. Poole, think it really serves a much better purpose. In the third picture, Manitou seems to be thinking: "hmm, this place needs a paint job!" (Is anyone listening? IT DOES!!) Mr. Poole looks like he's thinking: "Hey, no one told me these were bunk-beds!"




Tristan reposes and recovers near the warmth of the brick border. He was recently diagnosed with an abscess on his back. Not the worst we have ever seen, but still nasty business: squeezing, draining etc...but he took it all very well indeed. Next to him is my latest purchase for the garden: a lovely garden wagon: it is very handy and attractive too!


Regular visitor, sometimes called "Mooch", Rascal relaxes on the cedar bench.




And last but not least, New solarium furniture! Here we see Angel and Longfellow obviously approving of the long-awaited purchase. The day the set arrived, Angel was the first to hop onto the the couch and sprawl at full length, so elegant her black against the vivid red. The old white wicker set had been with us since the house purchase in 1994, and was quite worn. It was not shabby chic anymore, just shabby!

Thank you to everyone who sent me their good thoughts for Chesney - I really, really appreciate it. Maybe we can keep it up for a little longer?

3 Weeks....

Last night I dreamed my house fell into a shallow sink-hole (this actually happened to a family in Quebec - they were in the basement watching a hockey game, when the ground opened up and swallowed them: mother, father, and 2 children). My house was in ruins, and people were taking all my clothes. I was searching for my cats...and waking up, exhausted, as usual my first thought is that Chesney is still missing.

Am I waiting for him to return, or is this just the beginning of forever gone?

Two Weeks....

....hope for Chesney is fading...

A Week: Heartbroken

Sometimes I am stunned by the lunacy of this world and its inhabitants: in one image we see the dying and dead wildlife produced by the gulf oil hemorrhage (spill is NOT the word most people are using) and in another, the mad frenzy created by the release of the ipad. More and more everything seems disjoint - illogical - and incoherent. Amid all of this there is no good news. Chesney is gone, and I am heartbroken. I have always said that not knowing is the worst - not knowing where he is now, how is is - if he is...is he suffering...

But that is just a little gray cat in a world full of unending misery, pain and bigger tragedies. Just a little gray cat.

And as I can often do, I thoughtlessly blame those close to me for not caring as much, or not grieving as they should. But of course, what can they say? Life goes on. How timely, then, that the following quote appeared in today's local newspaper:

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares."

~ Henri J.M. Nouwen