Chris’s Solution

Kitten to the Rescue

I have to admit, I love having something to write about. Even if it’s just something as innocuous as a mushroom or a carrot or a pig.

I was lamenting to a dear friend this evening that I had nothing to write about, and that sometimes that void is excruciating (and not easy to fill!).

She promptly texted back the photo you see above. Her accompanying comment was, “This probably won’t help, but I know it will make you smile.”

Of course, she was right. And it’s probably no big surprise that someone who’s known me since we were eight years old or so is probably pretty good at knowing my heart.

Brings Me Right Back

The look on the face of that kitten brings me back to the times Chris and I played in the fields surrounding our homes, hung out in her grandfather’s barn, and a couple times throughout our growing up years found scruffy little kittens to nurture and care for.

They’d usually have the little bit of crust in the corner of their eyes, dirty fur, and often smelled of hay and perhaps a little very old manure.

Mmm. The smell of manure is one of my favorite memories from growing up.

What an odd thing to remember fondly, I guess. But it didn’t smell like ‘shit.’ Manure has a distinctive, pungent, tangy smell all of its own – and it always reminds me of the hard work that goes into growing food.

Lesson On Riffing

This post is precisely that. Some random bits of memories from growing up as a country girl.

And the warm feeling it gave me to have my maid of honor (of 39 years ago) remind me that scruffy little kittens will always be my weak spot.

(T-748)