That’s the thing about writing, blogging, corresponding with people who read what you write…sometimes it’s easy and funny and entertaining and sometimes, it’s hard. The other day I was sitting in my conservatory watching a white butterfly. Something had happened to it and it couldn’t fly very well. Every so often it would heave itself up and flutter an inch or so off the stone floor, then slump, exhausted, back onto the slate, both wings on one side. After a little rest it would have another go.
Today I have felt like that butterfly. I try for few moments and then I give up. There’s a line from “Vincent” By Don McLean:
“A silver thorn, a bloody rose
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow”
that sometimes haunts me. We had a thunderstorm this afternoon and some very welcome and very heavy rain. My house sprang several leaks and I was busy with towels and bowls as I watched the water cascading from the spouting. It reminded me of my leaky eyes, it’s a by-product of grief, leaky eyes. When things aren’t going well I just miss my Mum so much. The world goes round and tomorrow will be better.
I took Chloe to the vet today and the first thing she said (the vet, not Chloe) as she coaxed her out of the carry cage was “what a beautiful cat!” Chloe is black and white and she has black whiskers above one eye and white above the other and her coat is very glossy. When she came in from the rain storm she was sodden and looked like a cat that had had a bath. Surprisingly, she let me towel her off and then sat, happily, in front of the heater and licked herself clean but she wasn’t keen on going back outside so spent the evening cuddling with me and watching TV. “Outside” is a summer word as far as Chloe is concerned, it goes with ‘warm’ and ‘long summer evenings catching moths.’ The merest hint of cold and dark and rain and she’s curled into a ball on the nearest soft, cosy inside surface. After all, when you’re that beautiful, you have nothing to prove outside and it’s closer for the trained humans to reach the treats.