A Tuesday Morning in June_June 19th

I was going to show you some of the lumber that is strewn about the complex so you would know that we indeed have been having construction here for over 2 months now...a redoing of the entire roof of the complex, and now a redoing of the wooden walkways.  A lot of sawing and banging and noise from a compressor, workers in and out, and every thing in between.

How two cat boys can still find the courage to venture in and out, or to focus on their daily investigations and readings is beyond me!

I think it is only because their are superior cats and I am a puny human who cannot jump up the walls or put my leg over my head or sniff as expertly as they do.

This morning we did the street walk...noted a different bird, not the usual pigeons...

and the cat boys assumed their morning posts. One sits one way and the other sits the other way, always!  I sometimes pick up Mr Puffy Pants and turn him around so he'd know that he should check the street but I also wonder if the light gets into his eyes and he prefers to sit the other way for that reason.

They looked around and made it interesting.  I observed them while having little conversations with them.

After the street scene lost its interest we headed back in towards the back yard where the squirrels await us.  Today though the cat boys both ignored the squirrels.  They had found something interesting on the ground that required their examination.  Sherlock and his assistant...

We read a poem today, a long one...chosen by Mr Sweet Pants himself (he always reads my mind)

Good-Bye

BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home:

Thou art not my friend, and I'm not thine.

Long through thy weary crowds I roam;

A river-ark on the ocean brine,

Long I've been tossed like the driven foam;

But now, proud world! I'm going home.

Good-bye to Flattery's fawning face;

To Grandeur with his wise grimace;

To upstart Wealth's averted eye;

To supple Office, low and high;

To crowded halls, to court and street;

To frozen hearts and hasting feet;

To those who go, and those who come;

Good-bye, proud world! I'm going home.

I am going to my own hearth-stone,

Bosomed in yon green hills alone, —

A secret nook in a pleasant land,

Whose groves the frolic fairies planned;

Where arches green, the livelong day,

Echo the blackbird's roundelay,

And vulgar feet have never trod

A spot that is sacred to thought and God.

O, when I am safe in my sylvan home,

I tread on the pride of Greece and Rome;

And when I am stretched beneath the pines,

Where the evening star so holy shines,

I laugh at the lore and the pride of man,

At the sophist schools, and the learned clan;

For what are they all, in their high conceit,

When man in the bush with God may meet?

Mr Puffy Pants seemed to enjoy.

Cat boys sent pawfuls of kisses and their love.

Ciao everyone!