Wednesday, February 25, 2009

More Wiff & Waffel

Late afternoon in the beautifully magic garden; balmy and still. Tree-tops, primroses, lemon-basil and wotnots hallowed in an orangy-glow that wafts from Helderberg’s burning vineyards. A tragedy.

Ash from once bursting grapes and lush greenery floats like speckled grey snow amongst lazy summer, nectar and sex infused insects. An attractive fat bumble bee in a yellow striped jacket hovers around some small pink flowers. The leafs of the plant I used to put into my food at the time when I believed it to be edible and family of Mint. Turned out it was seriously poisonous, without me experiencing any serious effects...

It set me thinking this morning, how the flame will into eternity dare and fascinate the moth. Inviting and licking starvingly at the delicate fragments of the moths fluttering wings.

How the danger of the greener pastures lures the curios, creative of mind and the ever-youthful old soul to the sketchy edges of a long, narrow and steep drop just to get a view of the sharp rocks and ever restless ocean far below.

And turning my mind to how a tiny kitten can behave erratically bravely in the sheer face of a scowling big albino tiger cat (case of a house-trained domestic and no-nonsense cuddle bear).

Sipping cool wine, bare feet resting on the limp garden table, ensconced in sun dapples and droplets from the sprayer, I hankered yet again after something nameless. Freedom? Maybe. Could have gone doing some worthwhile volunteering stuff at the raging fires. Perhaps, as long as it would not include me burning to an unplanned premature death. Mind, nobody plans when they die. Not that I'm aware off...

Anything to overcome the feeling of missing life; apart from getting well and truly tipsy.

Well, dear gangly kitten Luigi brought a smile on when Mr. decided to accomplish the great task of taunting tiger Harry…AGAIN. Luigi did okay for a cocky kitten and scrambled-climbed from Mission Impossible to Mission Completed. On all four on top of the tiger and acting a bit like a baboon...Some growling started, followed by ferocious kicking and eventually tufts of hair ruffled and flew in several directions…

Harry the Gladiator eventually became bored from the never-ending onslaught from Luigi the Terminator. He smartly decided to thwart the little loafer with a dead-scary look that read


Daft kitten hardly bats an eye.

So Luigi prowls away with a Oscar for Best Acting Italian Stalker, and Harry purrs with acclaim for Best Heavy Weight Director.

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