That time of the day when the sun is considering to retire is a special time. The dabs of golden light on the leaves are so metaphysical
that even a busy cat like Ollie would have to sit for a spell and soak in the peace and beauty.
No sooner had he begun to fade into the softness of those moments that his other self (the naughty one) woke up with Vulcan ears and told me that he was my leader! I simply looked back at him maintaining continuous eye contact.
He jumped down from his pot of glory and decided to tend to the garden, a new plant had suddenly appeared in our courtyard.
In his puffy gardening pants, he stood up and checked the plant
from all angles, and with immense attention.
Sweet Pants was in charge of watering but he had created a lake
that he could not cross, too deep for his sweet pants, so he walked around it.
The gardener cats exchanged looks once
twice at each other remaining in constant communication.
I had the urge to kiss them and so I did. They made kisses and blew it in the air.
The first call of the Beloved is this: O mystic nightingale! Abide not but in the rose-garden of the spirit. O messenger of the Solomon of love! Seek thou no shelter except in the Sheba of the well-beloved, and O immortal phoenix! dwell not save on the mount of faithfulness. Therein is thy habitation, if on the wings of thy soul thou soarest to the realm of the infinite and seekest to attain thy goal." (from the Hidden Words)
All in all it was a grand afternoon outdoors where most land is covered by cement.