The last few blossoms are dropping from the cherry tree and now even the late tulips are blooming. Spring has sprung and we are moving past cherry blossom season towards summer. Yet even though summer is my favorite season, I feel a melancholy pang every year when the blossoms flutter down. Time moves by so fast and nothing can arrest its inexorable passing…nothing except for the magic of art, that is! Therefore, here is my yearly blossom painting. I made this one with watercolor and ink and I was hoping to capture the transitory moment when the sun dips from the sky and the lanterns come on and yet the sky remains heavenly blue (it is an ephemeral moment of the day which mirrors the equinox moments of the year.
Although the real subject of my picture is the blossoming cherry tree (the full beauty of which has, yet again, eluded me), I tried to capture some other garden delights–the crabapple tree blossoms (at far right), the dogwood blossoms (at top left), the riot of tulips, and the ornamental winter cabbage which somehow survived living under two feet of snow in January and February in order to bloom in May. One of my roommates is back there in her golden ochre coat looking at bingo on her phone and the faces of the garden statues can be glimpsed in the tulip beds. At the center of the picture is another wistful figure tinged with melancholia. My best friend is a tiny black cat with a dab of white who sneaked into the basement when she was a kitten. After the death of Sepia Cat back in March, Sumi Cat is now my only pet. She is as loving and domesticated as any cat I have met and sleeps in my arms at night (indeed she is cavorting on the keyboard this very moment, trying to type over what I am writing and command my attention). But Sumi has relatives on the outside. On the other side of the sliding door she has siblings and nieces and nephews who are not domesticated but live the short yet intense lives of feral cats. I think that is her sister’s daughter there in the garden (she looks identical to Sumi, except Sumi has a white fingerprint on her heart where Kwan Yin touched her), and I am always sad that I didn’t trap her and her brother (and their little siblings who vanished forever when they were the size of teacups) and drag them to the “Cats of Flatbush” cat rescue organization. Sigh. What are we going to do about the way of the world?
ghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghghnhyhyhyhyuuuu (Sumi added that post script so I am putting in a little author picture below)
ferrebeekeeper 
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May 5, 2021 at 8:30 AM
K Hindall
You can’t save all the critters. My sister came home one day with an American Staffordshire Terrier (aka pocket pittie), and she has stayed with us. Her presence has disrupted our pack. She was probably caged her whole life until we got her, and so she doesn’t understand dog language, like play bows, so neither of the in-residence dogs like her. My sister repeatedly mourns that she’s not much better off than on the street, but she can’t seem to see the way Flissie stares at her so adoringly and she forgets the dental surgery we paid for (dogs kept in cages frequently break teeth trying to bite through the bars, and we had to get the stumps removed or they might have gotten infected) and of course the doggie sweaters that keep the nearly furless girl warm.
You’ve saved Sumi Cat (great name!), and you’ve immortalized her niece in your art. Just always keep at least one rescued nonhuman in your life and you *are* helping the problem! (So long as you get the critter fixed so there’s no more homeless critters.)
Flissie sends you ucky-wet piggie kisses and many flipples of her tail for helping out her sister in need.
June 1, 2021 at 11:55 PM
Wayne
Aw…now I pity the poor pittie too. But alas, I have also had experiences with dogs that were not properly socialized for the worlds they came to inhabit (although some of them learned).
Sumi Cat is my best friend though, so I always worry about how it could have gone so differently (and whether those wild cats running in the street could have wound up sitting next to me on my pillow as I kiss their furry ears).
I guess we will keep muddling forward doing the best we can. Send my love to the sweet Flissie! (and maybe I will send the “Cats of Flatbush” people a small donation).