About this time two years ago my girlfriend found a kitten while walking Jack, our dog. To hear her tell, it was lying in deepish grass in a school yard, or church, near the road, far from where any responsible kitten should have been at that age in the ghetto.
I was on the front porch when Asia returned from the walk as I often was in the torpid summer o'15. She opened her hand and there was this moist mottled mess, no more than four inches, covered in fleas, eyes yet glued shut.
We didn't want a cat, but what do you do? Wash it twice, gently, with Dawn dish soap, cur out the flea bodies, put it on half and half via eyedropper and massage it's eyelids, that's what.
Now, she's yet a teenager but stays out all night, returns in the morning with no good explanation, demands high-end cat pate' and naps adorable but draws blood if you rub her wrong. She's the coolest: we call her Luna and I took these pictures this afternoon.
Baby is what I call her actually, mostly. Usually, if I open the iPhone she is coy and resists, but today she modeled for me. Which might make me a pervert, I know. Meow and Hiss.
And these, today's flowers and bee. The lily has been very slow to show. There are like thirteen of them blooming or near to it. Not knowing even what color they were, as it was a late fall random bulb planting and we forgot, well, quite happy with these magnificents newly sprung, and oh the odour!
The bee flower below and the one atop are simple marigolds. So as to not forget how amazing simple can be, I lean in close in the evenings, quiet my mind, and pray that I don't.
The bee itself is a bumble, of which we seem to have aplenty, but I can't remember the last time I saw a regular bee. Thanks Monsanto, Fukushima Daichi, Ted Cruz, et cetera.