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Wednesdays with Mija
I monitor water flow, taste, and overall usage. It’s quite a big task, you see.
Gardens don’t simply happen. In this high plains desert where we live, plants require water – usually lots of it.
My job is to make sure thirsty plants get their fair share of water.
Oh, I don’t actually do the work of watering. No, no, no!
I have people for that.
My role is much more important.
Take note of.
You can usually find me front and center anytime the hose comes out. I love drinking from puddles, clean of course, and meditating on the flowing water.
If you haven’t done so, perhaps you should try it. Water is very relaxing. Especially when your people handle it.
You do have people don’t you?
Have a great Wednesday!
Wednesdays With Mija
Come on people, it’s summertime and the livin’ should be easy.
It’s my goal to get outside in the garden every day. Of course I don’t work in the garden, but appreciating a garden is just as good.
And I’m an expert appreciator.
What do you appreciate about summer?
Wednesdays with Mija
A leisurely nap in the sun.
A little time in the garden.
Sum-sum-summertime is here.
How are you planning to enjoy your summer?
P.S. Please overlook the bare spots of dirt. The vinca had a particularly hard winter. I for one, love the feel of earth on my fur, so it totally works for me.
I hear a wide assortment of music as I wander around our house.
Between the computer, CD player, and the television, I get bombarded with tunes.
You can imagine my surprise and delight the other day when I heard a woman named Cheryl Wheeler, who is apparently a well-known folk artist, singing about a white cat.
Look carefully at the words I’m including here, because it could so easily be about me. In fact, the more I listened, the more certain I became that her song is about me.
I’ve been exerting some pressure for my peeps to buy the song, so I can listen whenever I want. So far, no luck. Maybe you can help?
White Cat by Cheryl Wheeler
I was a white cat once, but when I roll around I get all gray and brown,
And it does not make sense to waste a busy day licking the dirt away.
I have staff for that, sent here to serve the cat
I let my fur get gray and then I dock their pay.
It’s a brand new mornin’ as I stretch and arise
Amble over to the tale, little nibble on the kibble,
Shred a little sofa as I open my eyes.
Yes, I got ratted, matted, messed up hair,
This verbal fur ball does not care.
I want to be lord of the fleas,
I saunter and I do what I please.
I was a white cat once. I was a white cat once. I was a white cat once.
Get out in your gardens and get dirty. Yippee, it’s spring!!!
P.S. The “lord of the fleas” part isn’t about me. Just sayin’