Go-Faster Stripes

The sparrows with the go-faster stripes are back! Zonotrichia leucophrys (White-crowned Sparrow) is seasonal here, and while they may outnumber the other birds at my feeders for a while, the population will diminish over the summer as other sparrows move in. They will still be the dominant sparrow species, sharing the spotlight with a handful of Golden-crowneds and the occasional Chipping thrown in for spice, but will be only a small portion of the overall census which includes finches, grosbeaks, jays, etc. Now just for a moment, think about the racing stripes and how they might have contributed to this species' survival. With the head tipped down to scrounge seeds in grass, the bird's flecked brown back looks from above like a patch of dirt. The stripes appear to be nothing more than light and shadow to a passing predator. Pretty cool, huh?

Spring Cleaning

In addition to gardening, our recent "potato-salad" weather inspired me to do a little spring cleaning. Merry had not had a bath since last July, according to my notes, although I seem to recall giving him one in September and may have forgotten to mark it down. In any event, he was overdue, and had been asking me for face-washes when I was washing my own face. Nor had he forgotten the procedure, and likewise remembered his manners, standing politely in tummy-deep water while I soaped him up, not protesting when I folded his ears back to rinse the top of his head under the tap, enduring the sprayer for a thorough rinse, and only objecting verbally to having his embarrasing bits towelled off. Tropicana Cat Wash has another satisfied client!

Chive Rescue Mission

There is a punch line to the story of this rather inelegant photograph, so keep reading. We've had "potato-salad" weather for the last several days with yesterday hitting the high 70s. Since I had to go after groceries anyway, I added a tub of cottage cheese to the list, inspired by a comment from one of my sisters-of-the-heart that her chives were almost ready to pick. The thought of chive-y cottage cheese set my mouth to watering. I brought the cottage cheese home, went out to pick chives. Hidden way in underneath my coveted Sweetfern (Comptonia peregrina, aka Spicebush), I could see a few tendrils struggling for the light. Did I really want to pick those pioneer scapes? Skipping ahead in the narrative, suffice to say that I decided it was time to rescue the few fleeting chives and bed them in a flower pot where they'd receive better care. That decision came after I discovered that they were growing side by side with a look-alike, and very nearly put grape hyacinth leaves in my cottage cheese!

The Paper Pile

Merry does love it when I get a shipment from my weaving thread supplier because it means I can replenish his Paper Pile with crisp, new material which crickles good when he pounces on/in it. He loves the Paper Pile! It's probably the best cat toy ever. He hides Fish in it (that's Fish in the foreground), and then digs Fish back out again. He drags the Paper Pile over to his ball race, covers it up, then spins the balls around and watches for them when they appear between the folds. It's a very noisy game. And best yet? He hides in the Paper Pile, covering himself up entirely, to lie in wait for an unsuspecting Mama to walk by. More than once, I've been startled out of my skin when the Paper Pile suddenly erupted a Cat. Even when the paper has gotten rather limp from constant use, it's still fun. Of course, it's a bit of a trip hazard for the Mama because it occupies a large area of the living room floor, and I find myself having to make long detours to move my band looms over to my chair, but in the order of things, Merry's enjoyment takes precedence.

Weaving "Little Guys"

Since I have a fairly simple project on Daisy, I decided to do something a bit more challenging on rigid heddle, i.e., double the sett, and use both a pickup stick and a heddle rod. The draft I chose was a huck variation, something my mother called "little guys" for the floats with "legs" and narrow "waists." My mom wove exclusively on rigid heddle and inkle, and I was always surprised by the patterns and textures she could achieve using a single heddle and pickup sticks. She worked in heavier threads than I prefer, but I was sure I could adapt her instructions to a two-heddle loom so I could weave with my usual 8/2 cotton. There are 252 ends here, using two 10-dent heddles. The "up" sheds include either the pickup stick or the heddle rod to create the floats, and are a bit tricky to get a shuttle through, but I got roughly 9 inches done yesterday. I'm not sure I'll ever repeat this experiment because it is rather tedious to weave, but when I'm done, I should have two towels and possibly a washrag of "little guys."

His Birthday Present

 

During the construction process of Merry's birthday present, he was more interested in bolts than the soft parts, at least until I got the scratch post in an upright position. The deedly-ball only merited a few minutes of investigation, but in the end, the birthday scratcher/bed received full approval.

He's Two!

He was such a little teacup cat when I brought him home, little pocket cat I could hold in one hand, fast as lightning and smart as a whip. Today, he celebrates his second birthday, and he's matured into a 17-plus pound moose! There's no question as to who rules the roost here, either. He has me trained well to respond to his whims, whether it's providing treats or playtime, or determining when it's time to go to bed or to get up. And he makes me laugh a hundred times a day. Yesterday, I saw him run across the living room but didn't see where he went. I came in from the kitchen asking, "Where's that silly little cat? Where did Merry go?" He wasn't in the window, wasn't on any of his customary perches, wasn't behind the loom, so I figured he was hiding in the overturned box, intending to grab my ankle as I went by. I got down on the floor, stuck the tip of a finger underneath one corner, trying to tempt him to attack it. Nothing. I wiggled the finger. Still nothing. I tried several more times before giving it up, and as I started to stand up, the pile of brown packing paper erupted (it's one of his favourite toys, and fills a large part of the living room)! He had hidden himself inside it, to lay in wait for the unsuspecting Mama. I shrieked and fell over backwards (on purpose), "You got me! You got me good!" which was the precise reaction he'd been anticipating. So, for the joy my Merry brings, please join me in wishing him a happy birthday.