Of Hairballs and Other Delights of Spring

We believe our cat Francie is about 22 years old. She's so old, we just can't remember. I believe DS2 was about 9 the day he brought her home to save her. A tiny kitten, on the coldest day in a raw Virginia winter, eyes still shut, lungs rattling as she strove to breathe. And save her he did. We kept her in a shoebox with an electric light above, and fed her warm milk with an eyedropper. DS2 gave her lots of love, and to this day, she recognizes him and readily sleeps with him when he comes home.
Francie has always been phobic of strangers, hiding in a closet or a drawer or even jumping up on a bed under the quilt. Many a time we have given friends a house tour with an unseemly lump in the guest bed.
The changes in Francie as she aged have been gradual. She moves a little more slowly now, and has become more assertive with the other pets. Her tummy is a little more tender than it was before, so it is my pleasure to clean up bloops where her "hairball relief" cat food lies in a puddle of water and bile. After all, how old is 22 in cat years? She has jumped to the bathroom lav every morning that we've had her, for her morning drink. It is my habit to turn the lav water on to a little trickle so she can drink while I take my shower.
Francie's leap to the lav has become slower and more intentional than in days past. She used to bound effortlessly up to the top of the lav. A few years ago, she began to jump on the john, then turn and jump the rest of the way up to the lav.
Now, she stands beside the john, back paws on the floor, front paws on the john, and thinks for a long time. She stands there, looking at her intended goal. I imagine she is thinking, "Can I make it?" or perhaps, "Push with the back ones, push hard." Many days I just scoop her up and place her on the rim of the lav for her drink. She always scolds me as if to say, "I could have made it myself."
Yesterday was just such a day.
I was in the shower washing my hair when I heard Francie winding up for a good old hurl. "Rrf, rrf, rrf," The stomach muscles were working to push it out.
Now sometimes I can catch her before it happens and hold her over the open john. (We keep our johns closed so that Daniel, her nemesis, won't drink john water.)
"Franceeeeeeeeeeee," I called as I swept the shower curtain open, wet, and covered in shampoo lather. I reached for her just as she neatly barfed all over a stack of clean, white, folded towels. A hairball as big as your thumb lay neatly in the middle of it all.
Sigh. I love that cat.

On a lighter note, we cooked weenies over the fire last night, again. We are doing so again, tonight. Guests who were invited last night had a little one under the weather and asked for a rain check, but LO had already invited a gf over so we went ahead last night and planned a repeat performance for tonight. I'm getting pretty good at packing baskets with just the right stuff to carry outside. It's a good, wholesome time. The girls swing on the giant swing and chat and catch marshmallows on fire. The birds sing to us till they settle down for the night. The fireflies come out and then we gather all our stuff and head inside.

What is it?

The lady who lived in our house first was named Helen, and legend has it that she was quite the gardner. Even though our little veg garden lies where her rose garden stood, we have a giant *something* from her legacy. One neighbor told us she grew elephant garlic there. We are uncertain what it is. It comes back every spring, blooms, and ebbs away. We enjoy watching it but it has never multiplied. Here is a shot to show you how tall it is:

She is a little over 5' tall, so the plant must be close. To the left, you can see our spinach, a little kale, and peas. The tomatoes are sort of behind the iris. And 4 pepper plants are behind Little One.

After we came in, she was hanging out in the b.y. with our ndn's. Here is a picture:

It's a beautiful day and we are all enjoying it. LO leaves for youth group soon and DH leaves for work in just an hour. Then it's all over for another week!

Planting at the Park

Not sure where I read it, and of course I can't find on the web right now, but someone, somewhere, said you live longer if you live in a place where people have a strong sense of community.

We had a great showing today for our second Planting Saturday, the first having been 2 weeks ago. About 30 folks came out for the work, including kids, and we worked hard for 2 hours. I am so glad I did not wear my contacts as the salt in my eyes was blinding.

The very large guy standing at his truck is the landscape architect. Don't let his size fool you. He is a work-HORSE. He does the work - and sweats -- for 3 or 4 guys. The lady in black pants with her rear to the camera is the Parks Director. These folks don't usually DO manual labor -- they have people who do that. But they came on their own personal Saturday morning and worked HARD. Why? I am not sure, but it has something to do with our neighborhood partnership. They have surely shown their commitment to us. We gotta do something nice for them when this is all over.

The Kids' Committee met while we planted, and made their final selections for the playground. The Parks Director measured the playground out on the ground, 17' in diameter, and the landscape architect used his wheelie-spray-paint-thingie to mark the circle on the grass. It's getting exciting, to see the park start to develop. I had the idea only 2 years, 4 months ago, and we have already developed the partnership with the city, raised most of the money, (all of the money for phases 1 and 2), had the whole park designed (patterned after F.L. Olmstead's designs -- he was doing this 100 years ago when the neighborhood was built--) cleaned it up, planted beautiful grass, put up the sign, built one bridge over the creek (thank you Eagle Scout candidate) ordered pavers, installed the sign, selected the playground vendor, and designed the playground. Now it is gaining real momentum. They are ordering the benches next week and the playground will go in, in about 8 weeks.

The weather was beautiful this morning -- sunny, clear and warm. The mockingbirds serenaded us as we laughed, grunted, worked.

The plants we put in on the hill were in 3-gallon containers, so we had to dig those holes rather large, not so easy on a steep incline. On my third bush, my shovel kept clinking on something. I gingerly tapped my shovel into the ground around it. Clink, clink. "Believe I've got concrete slab here!" I called out. "Oh don't be such a priss," retorted my gf. (Only she could get away with such a comment.)

A fellow who lives somewhat behind us came over with his shovel. Clink, clink. He found the edge, and dug up a 16"x28" piece of concrete, 5" thick. I helped pry it up and we rolled it down the hill. Joyous, I looked over at gf. " Priss," I said. We laughed and laughed. Boy, was I glad it was legit, or I really would have looked like a priss.

We had bought a couple cases of water with neighborhood money, and it was well-chilled in a cooler. We all worked, sweated, drank water, and dug some more. The park is coming along!

We are already thinking ahead to the party we will have when it opens.