Grumpier Caturday

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“The looks of grumpiness, doesn’t always mean, that the mood reflects the face” Gun Roswell

Grumpier Caturday

Sitting there, on the floor, looking, oh so very bored, so much so, that some might say, it was grumpy, without any kind of funky thing to do. After all, this was the one day of the week, where celebrating the feline freak, was supposed to be that special beat, which the cats and kitties marched by. But today, there was no big smile, on the furry face, definitely not a wagging tail, only a feeling of epic fail. What could be a cause of such distain? Something which certainly needed to be fixed in a hurry right away.

The keeper of the sad cat, wondered of the exact topic, for a moment, before coming up with a kind of a plan, which she hoped, would get the mood of the furry feline turn from uninterested sleeping to a happier stand. So, the first thing, was to get some treats together, meaning the best kind of fish forever. Then, some cool toys to play with, a few moments the spirits to uplift. And the final treat, well, isn’t that obvious for a Caturday ball? A big bag of catnip served, from the finest of colourful bowls, and wouldn’t you know it, after the rattling of the tuna can top, the grumpy cat, came running around the corner, clearly gone was the sad and replaced by loud purring cheers, all around the keepers feet.

Snow covered forest, for a moment

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“It is that time of the season, when the snow, finally settles down, covering all, without an excuse or any reason“ Gun Roswell

Snow covered forest, for a moment

Threading on the narrow path, of freshly covered white flakes binding the surface together, just like ice on the lake. The only sounds heard, are those of the soft echoes, of my own footfalls, as I gently step so not to disturb the cover of this, elegant white powder, now lain across all of the land, which only yesterday, looked so bland. With all the grey covering most of it and faded greens on the forgotten lawns, was the only colour, or non colour, all over to be seen. But not today, no, today, it all looks so new, so fresh, so elegant, like someone cooked a white sustenance stew, just last night, for a late dinner, maybe, and now, for me and maybe others to enjoy, the freshness, the coolness, the crisp, all over. On my skin, on my pale face, even, in my nose and on my lips, as the flakes, from the heavens above, slowly still fall, and I can feel it all. The calming of this moment, where all the world is covered in one unifying and protecting soft and fluffy blanket. Well, at least, up here, in the North hemisphere, where we, the so called tall Northerners dwell, and at this time of the year, live in fear, of the darkened season. But today, that one single reason, is gone and, as the snow has finally landed, making us, mostly hunched up people, to stand once again, tall. As this is the season, after the Fall, we have waited for, patiently, laying low, not smiling, not talking, not even, each other stalking. Only, winter time, with the snow, gives us, the essence we need to survive, until such time, that the sunshine, once again peeks through the wintry blinds, as it does its way up here, to the very North, find.

Phone home already!

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“What the hell kind of box is this? A telephone? With a cord, do people still use these?” Gun Roswell

Phone home already!

The odd box of a thing, somewhat similar to that one on the show, which I used to watch, but painted in a way more cheerful colour you could almost smell the odour of the yellowish flower it reminded me of. The open and inviting door, to a tiny room of a space, the windows covering all the walls, and it doesn’t really feel that cramped or that small. But, what is most curious there, is an odd object, latched on to the back of the stall, a cord hanging loose with a plastic gadget at the end, something reminiscent of what I have in the past seen. In my youth so to speak, but hey, the age of it I won’t leak, but that is beside the point as this funny thing of a magical joint, can actually make you talk with people far far away. And today, that is exactly what I am going to play, as I insert the coin, which is another point to bring up, archaic things to discuss, alas today, the topic is this box, with the call home device to clarify and all odds to defy, I will place a call home.

Hop over the snowy hedge why don’t you!

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“There is snow, everywhere! It’s just unbelievable! (As we would ever get snow up here, the North way, so close to the Polar bears who walk the streets in here!)“ Gun Roswell

Hop over the snowy hedge why don’t you!

There really is no escaping, when the weather gods are breaking in, the wintry storms filled with, well, snow! Lots of it too! Yeah, it’s really pouring now!

There really is no escaping, just trying to muddle through all that, heavenly shit, that is if you are not really into it and the way it just hits, one day, out of the blue, when it was just yesterday, all over grey, and then, the next one, all white fun!

There really is no escaping, nowhere to run, certainly no place to hide, as it really pours when it rains, well, snows really, but it’s all the same to me, as I don’t really it feel. Call me a spoil sport, I don’t really care, as I don’t really like winter, and it’s said out loud so there!

So, to recap what this winter wonderland is all about, at least from a point of view of someone, who could so very easily do, without, as it is a total louse (talking from experience):

Below freezing temperatures one day, the coldness seeping through, no matter the thick clothing you really cannot move in, soon enough, you will be holding your ears, fingers and toes, in a bunched up ball and when you get home, the colouring of red and blue, are the overall hue.

The next day, the slippery slope is the way, as the slightly above degrees, lets you for a moment breathe. Alas, the icy bumps on each and every surface, as the “warm weather” adjusted the pure white snow, to something so awful, not even a shovel, can break it apart, not even if you try to use it, like really smart!

Then, there are those days, when you wished just in your comfy bed to lay. The white powdery stuff just keeps on pouring, the winds howling and roaring. Because when you are finally trying to get out of the house, even to check your mailbox, then guess what? The snow has pushed itself against the door, and there is no way, to crack it open, not even screaming and kicking on the floor helps, trust me, I’ve tried. So, the advice here is to stay at home, until, gone is all that snow.

But hey, no matter how bad the weather gets, at least, the pictures, well, those look great!
And if you really think the grass is still green on the other side, you really cannot so clearly see, and yes, even snow free!? Hey, why don’t you just try, to hop over the snowy hedge? Yes, well, what did you really except, some miracle or another to wash away all that, snow? (Ok so no last rhyme, which is fine, as this is a bastardised version of a poem anyway.)

Cross over the frozen creek

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“Playing hopscotch around the frozen creek? That is, if you fun games for the winter seek!” Gun Roswell

Cross over the frozen creek

The now solid frozen waters off the creek, once too deep to cross over, now proving to be a work of sustaining any kind of leap, faith or even a footfall placed on the very ice, once flowing freely. The watery way, which could easily have lead you to stray, now reminiscent of solid ground, rare, surely, to be found. But, nevertheless, there, the ice rests, at least while the winter lasts with subzero temperatures to pass and during this time, the crossing is made so easy, that even making pie would not top it, so whatever or whichever way you want to do, hopscotch or simple jump, to the other side.

On the country road, towards the setting sun

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“Riding along, singing a song, maybe, or at least, whistling a tune, when moving (read: slowly walking) towards the setting sun“ Gun Roswell

On the country road, towards the setting sun

“The time, is now,” to me, said the pasturing cow
“To enjoy, this very moment, when the sun, is about to set,
For tomorrow, another set of sorrows, will surely follow,
So do not hesitate, go, move, crawl, walk, run,
What ever it takes, just enjoy, this time, of the setting sun!”

It was the most and also quite likely, also the best set of any kind of advice
I had ever received, and so, without further thought, I did then and there, decide
To take up, on that very suggestion, and there on, without any further hesitation
I took the first step, on the very long length, of this road, on the country side
And started walking, way, way out there, towards the setting of the sun, divine

Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn

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“Take a load off on the sunny side of the winter’s storm” Gun Roswell

Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn

The afternoon sun, reflected off of the freshly fallen snow, now covering the frozen waterscape. A solemn bench still remained by the seashore sat, as if waiting for someone to take a load off a spend a moment to escape, especially, on such a fine day. Alas the streets were quite empty, not really sure as to what that had prompted, as not one single passer-by was anywhere to find, even if the sunshine, should have tempted everyone out and about for a stroll or a simple fresh breath to allow. Hours passed again, the sun ready to set in, for the night ahead, but still, a few rays dared to peel through and then, one creature courageous enough, had come out and was now, seated, on the very bench, in the sunshine still at reach, snacking on his big acorn, delighted to do it in some peace and quiet as usually, finding such spot, would instantly cause a riot. But today, he got some alone time, surely rare, in the big city, open wide.

The cat who wrote books

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“A cat writing and sipping coffee? Yes, well, like cat keeper, like feline, it’s all good and fine” Gun Roswell

Photo credit Cats of Instagram

The cat who wrote books

With her specs on, and coffee beside there, quite strong, the tabby cat, in her comfortable pullover and hat, neatly sat. The page in front, still empty, but it would not take too long, especially after the dark liquid kicked in, for something really good to come forth. After all, this was not her first round with the ink and blank paper, as several stories already written stood on the bookshelf alone. But this one would be very special, as it was going to about role reversals. A biography of sorts, she made a slight snort, a laughing sound in a kitty cat way, as she turned to look, on the sleepy face, purring contently right beside her. The once keeper, now a content pet, the Hooman of a female, who had this cat let, out of her box and now, the lot, would have the privilege, of reading all them booklets, written by the very cat, who on the bedside sat, sipping coffee and typing with a flow the next number one best seller which would everyones minds blow.

Not, without my Coffee!

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“Never leave the house, without, a) having a cup of coffee before or at least, b) a to go cup of coffee with you” Gun Roswell

Not, without my Coffee!

The morning usually starting, with at least, one cup of steaming, dark, hot, tongue popping delicious sustenance. But, if for some reason, and this could easily be called treason, there would be no coffee left in the house, because that louse of a memory, simply forgot, to restock the cupboards, with the one must item, you cannot without survive, then life, really is nothing, but a strife, spiralling quickly, down the nearest storm drain as after this experience, nothing would ever remain quite the same.

Alas a light at the end of the tunnel, as some sort of a food truck, just outside the housing complex had parked and the sweet, sweet smell of the wonderful drink, wafted to my nostrils just as I was on a brink, of total despair, seemingly, the situation unable to repair. But, with this turn of events, the total shock and horror could easily prevent, the fowl mood usually following a day’s start without coffee. So today, besides the most great tasting cup of the finest organic suspension ever devised by humankind, I also got myself a new best friend, a coffee vendor, from the Heavens sent. So, now sipping my coffee, quite happily, as that is the way any morning should be spent.

The red cottage in the forrest

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“The little red cottage in the middle of the forest, a dream for some” Gun Roswell

The red cottage in the forrest

It was painted in bright red, even if it clashed with all the green there, but still it remained hidden from prying eyes, even those who were considered spies. It was secured in the middle of the lushest and thickest of tall trees, from the ground up to the heavens it solemnly stood, and there was nothing or no one able to get to it either on foot or any other method. A tiny thing it might have been, alas a safe haven for the courageous builders, who had it up and run by the simplest of materials to be found, erected from the ground, not as a big or lasting monuments, but something more realistic and non-pollutant. A small cottage, in the middle of the thickest forest, a fable to most, but a home for few, who could appreciate the lure, of a simple yet sufficient dwelling, never ever it for any reward to be selling.