Monday, 10 September 2012

Good companions

It rained. Now it's doubtful the grass will be dry enough for cutting today unless the sun shines and the wind blows. Still, there's always tomorrow, and that's a fact, barring death, and even then - who knows? Though should there be an afterlife I doubt it extends itself to coming back in phantasmical form to cut the grass. I mean, would I even care? 

It's cold too. On occasion I'm shivering. Maybe I'm feeling the ghostly presence of a former occupant, fretting because he or she died before doing the last cut of the year? 

It's a sad time of year, don't you think? Autumn? The summer furtively slips by, almost unnoticed, and the Fall, though possessing it's own special beauty, heralds the start of the winter to come. That's the perception, in maturity anyway. If only I could return to those childhood days when summers stretched out infinitely long. When an hour was an age, a day an eon, and always set beneath cloudless blue skies. Sigh.

It's raining hard again, as if in response to my wistful muse, to create a back-drop to my mood. Thought control? I wonder? If I meditate on bright positive thoughts, will the sun come out? Probably not. I doubt that's what they mean when they speak of "making one's own reality". 

I've slept awhile since writing the above. Rosie still sleeps, curled close-to. She seems lonely since the demise of the dogs, an unusual trait in a feline, yet still, it appears so. She doesn't get so close as to feel my body heat, my near presence is all she seeks. The security of companionship.

I like solitude. Being alone, but not feeling lonely. I can spread myself in every sense. It allows me to think, to not-think, to meditate, so to speak. The cat allows me that, whereas people don't. The ideal companion, par excellence. 

Life's not so bad.


Michelle said...

Well here I was just talking to you about the unusual warmth o these early September days, and you're already whining about the cold! And the rain.

Well, it's how it is. One can only do so much about it, and if you've got a kitty to cuddle up to you, then you're doing pretty well.

Sari said...

That's a funny thought, you shivering because of a previous occupant fretting about some unfinished chores. If that's what happens to us, I'll never leave the next occupant of this house in piece! Unless, of course, I'll be the kind of ghost who doesn't give a shit.

Greetings to the cat! The only one who knows how to do anything right! I'm listening to Al Steward's 'Year of the Cat'. Just for Rosie.

Ronald said...


Whine? Moi? Since when? Haven't I always been the most upbeat of bloggers? I think we're two of a kind :-)

Ronald said...


".. the kind of ghost who doesn't give a shit..". Aren't those the ones that we never see, never hear? I mean, if they don't care, then they can't be arsed to go a haunting, can they?

Sari said...

Damn, I never thought of that. A ghost never to be seen or heard is about as useless as it can get. Sounds about right for me, eh?