Tag: mine

Well, since all my US friends are already going *~SPOOKY~* because it’s only a few months till Halloween, have some PUMPKINS.

I grew pumpkins this year, an heirloom variety I’ve forgotten the name of (though it may be Jarrahdale?). We got a couple of immature ones I knocked off by accident, and one great one that grew up in the crown of the lime tree. That one was amazing, and we finished the last of it a few months back. Then today, I was eyeballing the lime tree, working out how I was going to go about pruning it this week… when I spotted something. Something that may have been contributing to that lower branch bending down so far… Can you spot it yet?

Also, have a look at the amazing one I bought at the Farmer’s Market yesterday. I think it’s probably a Turk’s Turban, and I’m hoping the seeds are mature enough and will dry well!

Saving pumpkin seeds is just about the easiest thing in the world. Wipe off the majority of the pulp, spread them on paper towel to dry until COMPLETELY dry (a week or two) then store them in a jam jar until you’re ready to plant them.

flightinflame replied: the fact she othersise seems fine shows how well you are looking after her

I guess, I just wish she was in the main part of the house where I could watch her all the time. She’s in what’s essentially a box room right now, because it was the only place to put the two of them where they’d not have access to the outside and also be separate from the other cats and the dogs. I’m just going to have to remember to check on them more regularly and make sure she’s comfortable and healthy.

Well, that’s a thing that’s happened

We worked out in the last day that our calico, Scarlett, has gone blind. This has happened fairly quickly, in the last few weeks. She seems fine, if a little confused, hasn’t lost weight, is still up for purring and pats, she just doesn’t respond to us flapping our hands in front of her at all and isn’t looking up at our faces. I guess it’s a part of her getting old – she’s about seventeen – and as far as we can tell, it’s cataracts, so probably isn’t hurting her at all. No signs of anything that would suggest it’s due to a tumour or anything. Her safety isn’t at risk, because her and O’Reilly have been exclusively inside cats since we moved in with Mum two years ago, so she won’t get lost or anything, but I still feel like I should be doing something, even though there’s nothing to do. She naps all day when she isn’t being fed anyway, and so long as we don’t move her litter tray, food or water she should be able to find things easily, because she’s not disoriented, but still. I feel like I should be doing something.

Because they didn’t feature in my post the other day…

In the background is Nick. Mother, fluffball, waddler, Princess of Knives, singer of songs about her teaser toys. She has claimed my blanket.

In the foreground is Sam, who has settled against my butt to purr after a strenuous ten mintues gently gnawing and clawing my ankles. He’s always been more affectionate than his brother, but he does like to bite when he’s happy. It probably wouldn’t even hurt if I had fur. Alas, my ankles are unprotected and nommable.

We never pressure the cats to spend time with us. Nick is mostly with us, choosing a prime place on the back of a chair or on an unguarded lap blanket, but Sam has spent most of this winter sprawled on the arm chair on the back deck. He’ll occasionally come and take a turn around the room like an Austenian heroine, but otherwise, just accepts pats and food with happy purrs. Tonight, he felt like company, so I thought I’d document that Winter isn’t alone in wanting to be near us under his own terms.

November 2016, I saw a tiny tabby kitten slink under one of our cars. Soon, we realised the stray fluffy black cat that lived in Mum’s front yard had two kittens, one black, one the tabby I’d seen.

By March 2017, she’d relocated to the back of the house and, with her kittens was stealing Mum’s elderly cat’s food. I pointed out she’d been living on mum’s property for over a year, and that this was her second litter. We began the process of feeding, socialisation and medical care. We had to get them accustomed to being handled before we could get them desexed, for example. The mother cat was letting us pet her after a week. The kittens, who had never been touched by a human and were by this point close to six months old, took longer.

This evening, Winter, who has been enjoying the gas heater this winter season and coming up for pets semiregularly, climbed up onto the couch and parked himself on my lap for the very first time. It’s been about half an hour, and he’s still there, purring. My tiny scrap of a kitten is now a chunky tom who probably needs less breakfast (my mum overfeeds them), but he’s happy, and the living proof that rescuing animals is worth it. Perhaps I’m more willing to wait and have contact on their own terms because I’m autistic, but there are plenty of people out there who say that there’s a narrow, several weeks long window for socialising kittens born wild, and after that, there’s no chance of a cat accepting a relationship with people. Well, look at my boy. Never touched till he was six months. Not desexed till nearly nine months. Born under a car, and breastfed until I started feeding them, supplemented with whatever they could scavenge or kill. Maybe too many people out there just aren’t open to a relationship that you have to wait and work for.

*breathes*

I am okay.

I am okay, in this moment.

I will be okay, no matter what my brain is trying to tell me.

It’s miswired, poor thing, and it’s just trying to help by signaling to panic.

You do not need to panic.

Things will be okay.

Okay?

Okay.

(okay to reblog, if it helps you)

I’m always kntting, and this autumn, I’ve been knitting for charity, and sewing knit squares together to make blankets. Here’s me and my partner of seventeen years with blankets two and three at the donation point. I’m on the left, holding the one I dubbed ‘the ugly blanket’, which I knit all the squares for myself from scraps and oddments of yarn I’ve bought or inherited from failed knitters over the years. We’ve got two more with just ends to be woven in before they’re ready to go, bringing our personal household total to five blankets, plus all the plarn my partner’s been making that other people are crocheting into water resistant sleeping mats. Not bad for about a month’s work.

EDIT: I should clarify, the five blankets were not all knit by me, just assembled, with the exception of the Ugly Blanket. That one’s all me.