My sweet feline friend Annabelle left us ten days ago. She died quickly and without help, and I buried her with Wolfie’s ashes, since they were such good buddies, and planted a beautiful crabapple tree over them.

They’re just outside the kitchen window, so I can chat to them when I wash the dishes, if I feel so inclined.

I’ve been thinking about the things Annabelle loved. Sun spots. Cut flowers. Getting her fur combed. The couch. Jerk chicken. And me. I was so lucky to have her with me for so many years.

This is how I started 2013, as the base layer in a kitty pile up. It’s looking like a good year.

The end of 2012 was equally good, shared with excellent friends, eating delicious food, talking, talking, talking, laughing, and staying cozy while the snow fell outside.

Happy New Year!

The work center of the studio is making its annual pilgrimage, closer to the wood stove. When it gets cold outside I find that I’m like the cats — I want to be as close to the fire as possible. So I end up working at the dining table, where it’s warm and the morning light is brightest since the windows face to the east.

I’ve been making some of my aunt and mentor Jessica Rose’s designs.

These Ruffle Bracelets are fabulous. Made of stone beads, they have a softness and fluidity that is super feminine. I love them in jade and carnelian but I might have to make them in white pearl next, for a vintage lacy look.

Noodling through some more of the Library of Congress’s pictures on Flickr, I found these two which really amuse me. It’s not just the silly hats and the sagging, pre-nylon socks and, shall we say, revealing shorts. Or the precision of the oars lined up in a row. What is it that makes them so delightful?

Click on a picture to see it larger.

We had a gentle, slow-moving weekend. Some of us read a novel and watched orange leaves moving against blue sky, after the rain had stopped.

Some of us found new places to nap.

I cut up an amazing heirloom Goldman’s Italian American tomato from the garden to make what may be the last bruschettas of the season.

And enjoyed them very much.

Wolfie died on August 1st. He had been sick for several months so it was no surprise, but after living with him for 17 years I felt abruptly cut loose.

The following week I brought his ashes home in a little cardboard box with a label that read, “This is Wolfie. The companion of Estyn Hulbert.” — which I find strangely compelling. Tightly fitted inside was another box, this one made of something solid and mahogany-colored with a beveled edge at the top.

I had thought I would bury his ashes right away, but the box is still sitting on my studio desk and I can’t bring myself to spread his remains in the damp fall earth. Maybe I’ll wait until spring, when the dampness promises warmth and growth instead of dark days and freezing. Wolfie spent his final years being an old grump of a feline, so I think I’ll plant a crabapple tree over him, in honor of his crabbyness.

The household feels lopsided without him but Annabelle, Maxie, Noola and I are slowly adjusting. Extra love. Extra kindness. For all of us.

I found this via How’s Robb?. It’s worth watching and worth watching as large as possible.

Hefted from Dreamtime Film on Vimeo.