Squeak was a very fine cat

This morning Ranganayi my gardener and Smokey Cat and I buried Squeak under the shade of the spreading jacaranda tree, where she liked to sit to survey her domain and the goings on on the road in the cool, cool of the evening.

She died last night from complications following dental surgery for the tooth problems that were preventing her from eating.

I rummage in my memories of her this morning, seeking the best and sifting through them in my mind for comfort just as I might turn a river polished stone in my hand. I smile gently to myself as I think of her benign dictatorship of the entire household. She has been Top Cat for the fourteen years of her life, and though others have tried to usurp her position  from time to time, none of us, cat, dog, hamster and human ever seriously thought of disputing her claim to the title, and all the perks that go with the post.

She considered VetBoy her especial human and guarded him jealously from all comers. I learned much from her when he went away to University, both to rejoice at his presence and serenity during his absences. I will hold that particularly in gratitude toward her always, deep in my heart. She and I developed more of a rapport when he went away, born in part from our shared experience of missing him. I think back to her arrival in our household as  6 week old kitten, who had been hand raised by friends when her mother was killed before her eyes even opened. She was a fighter, surviving a period with out sustenance and a mothers warmth and going on to thrive, and to live life to the fullest.

Never a very vocal cat, she had other endearing ways of making her wishes known and crystal clear though she was not above using teeth to make her displeasure known. Mornings will not quite be the same, without her insistence that breakfast be served NOW, before any thing else happened and before I had even put the coffee on.

Rest in peace Squeak, you will be missed.

Adventure

People who know me well know that I am not a very brave person, and while prone to brashness I am actually quite timid. I am not known for my willingness to plunge into adventures. Perhaps that's why I make a good accountant - I am cautious, careful and look at least three times before I leap.

So it is odd that I find myself engaged, at the suggestion of my spiritual director, in the Ignation Prayer Adventure website here.  I am not known for diving in deeply as Michelle put it last week, I am so much happier splashing about in the shallows. Larking about and laughing with a child's attitudes are much easier. But one of the aspects of Lent, for me at least, is a maturing, and a deepening of faith.

How can I not strike out for deeper waters when I stop, pause and have revealed to me The God, who is in all things? I see God in the tiniest delicately spotted moth resting on the door lintel, to the vast cedrillla tree next door that is dying in bits from some terrible internal fungus that reminds me of the effect of sin.

So the grace I am praying for this Lent is the courage to seek out adventure.

A Valentine Haagen Dazs zen moment

I fell in love with Haagen Dazs ice cream when we lived in New York some twenty years ago. My favourite was a caramel flavour with caramel swirls. Since returning to Africa I have not eaten it as it is an particularly American desert. But I haven't forgotten ...........

Tonight my husband came home with some, which he proffered as an early Valentine gift, having surprisingly found some in a shop he happened into this afternoon.

It must be over twenty years since last I ate any.

Oh it was heaven. I ate a dishful in deep meditative pleasure.

A true Zen moment.

ITCZ

We have a weather phenomenon here called the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone or ITCZ. Generally the ITCZ appears in February and brings with it overcast and persistent rain. The overcast and rain can last for days, often the entire month with very little sunshine. If the ITCZ moves in and stays put for any length of time tempers fray and sense's of humour fail. We are Africans and used to sunshine and blue skies so this month of damp wetness does not suit us.

This years long range weather forecast predicted a dry February and little or no Inter Tropical Convergence. While we don't like the ITCZ rain its failure to form this leads to drought conditions and famine. I am not begging here - everyone is heartily tired of famine in Africa. Just a statement of fact.

However........

it formed early yesterday morning and we have had overcast and drizzle for the last two days with the promise of at least another week of it. Not bad, as it goes, but it may extend. Already I am depressed by the leaden grey skies and sprinkling rain. I cling to the beautiful morning earlier in the week but its glory is fading fast. This morning I have had a new thought as I deal with some matters from my Dad's Estate. We are of Finnish descent, though it is not something I often think about. Somewhere I read that Fins have one of the highest depression and suicide rates due to the lack of light and the high proportion of overcast days. Perhaps some of what I feel is a genetic inheritance.

Not sure why, but this is a strangely comforting thought and it makes the overcast easier to bear.

A beautiful morning

Every now and again we have a beautiful summers morning. A dawning that promises heat in the day as it wanes finally to a golden afternoon wherein the bees buzz busily in the pink basil bush outside my window.

This morning was such a morning.

It was glorious to step outside into the dawning and see the high clouds, floating in a baby blue sky, coloured electric orange, fading to delicate pinks and greys. The morning was a feast for all five senses. The arch of the sky sating my visuals, while the refreshingly wonderful taste of early morning fresh air had me drinking great draughts of it. It's cool moisture touching the bare skin of my arms making me want to dance like a whirling dervish.

Sound and smell similarly overwhelming.

The sweet fragrances of the yellow cassia tree just coming into flower and the Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow mingling to make a perfect perfume that Dior would envy.

And all around the dawn chorus sang in tune with such a beautiful day. A great choir of twittering with the robin chats vibrant  solos rising in counterpoint from different parts of the garden until from the high silky oak tree the hundreds strong flock of splendidly coloured European bee-eaters took to the skies offering their melodic voices in harmony with the multitude of voices already singing the morning into being.

Such mornings are a rare gift, and whatever today may bring my heart has been lifted to new heights in praise and worship this day.