The weather has been mostly cloudy and cool, and mostly dreary all weekend. We've had some sunshine yesterday, which was nice and pretty and very warm, and the roses and the azaleas are all in bloom in the backyard. If you concentrate on the flowers, you think of Spring. Look too long at the sky when it's so gray, and your mind knows it's really November.
When I'm in the back courtyard on the way to the coop, the perfume from the roses rests on the air and the aroma is just breath-taking. I wish I had one-eighth of the gardening talent of the woman who planted all those roses twenty years ago. I just thank my lucky stars that 90% of those rose bushes are still blooming five years after we bought this property.
I've been making soup this weekend..... thick and creamy broccoli soup one day, broccoli and carrot soup the next day. (No heavy cream, just non-fat milk, thank you.) Making soup has been a happy accident since last year. I had been cooking a head of cauliflower while the laundry was in the dryer... totally forgot about the boiling cauliflower and by the time I remembered it, that vegetable was a soft and pulpy mass. I hate wasting food, so I thought of trying to use it for soup, and it worked out perfectly. So now when I want to make any sort of vegetable soup, I just set the pot to boiling and let it cook away till it's soft and pulpy and ready to be turned into a thick soup.
Late last night, we heard a horrible cat screech out in the backyard. Mickey was closed up in the garage at the time, and both Gatsby and Sweet Pea were sound asleep in the TV room. As soon as we heard that cat out there, both inside cats ran to the back door, followed closely by my husband and myself. We went out on the porch but didn't hear so much as a tiny meow. This morning, when both Mickey and Gatsby were out on the porch, they were sniffing up, down, and around the porch furniture. I'm wondering if we have yet another stray cat to worry about. Seems like just a couple of weeks ago that we took the last stray cat away to hopefully find a new home.
I'm hoping beyond hope that last night's screeching howling cat has just moved on. I don't want to bring another cat to the shelter... and I don't want the outside cats to have to fight their way around the property trying to claim their territory. That last stray cat gave Gatsby a good deep scratch on the top of his head and it's just now healing up, so I'm sure The Gray Gatsby would agree with us when we say No More Cats!
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