What jogs a memory?
Our smallest cat, Miss Piggy Minoux, is quite sick, thin and getting frail. She’s now having seizures as well, at least 8 of them in the past three days… and a tumour on her neck, reminding me of my Selena, who died a few years ago with much the same problem. I called Selena “my little feather” in the last month of her life as she wasted and was reduced to nothing but cuddling on my bed all day long, barely eating, barely moving but purring with unreserved love and appreciation every time i spoke to her or touched her. Selena was 17 when she died, a large part of my life, and Miss Piggy has been with my dear Greyman for 12 years, a tiny “perma kitten” rescued from a wheel well in the coldest part of an Edmonton winter, and loved greatly by her “daddy”. The man is a grumbly curmudgeon with no patience for 99.9% of the world, but a total sap and sucker for animals, a major reason i love him, and he’s going to crumble when the poor puss floats away over the bridge…..
I digress, but not really. Feathers, sailing, floating, blowing in the wind, wafting away in the ether. Yes, a common thread to many, an element of design that catches us all, makes us hold our breath with their beauty and transient life. We tuck them into picture and mirror frames, encapsulate them with thread, suspend them from jewellry, paint, stitch, sketch, poetry them.
And while not floaty, the background for the UPP progresses, slow going at the moment as the day job increases the closer we get to the merry day! I’m not going to have a lot of time after either as there are weddings to attend to as well.
The flower pieces are not attached yet, but putting them there every once in awhile reminds me there are expanses i do not have to work!