Television Cat

MESMERIZED
~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~

“What sort of philosophers are we,
who know absolutely nothing
of the origin and destiny of cats?”
~ Henry David Thoreau ~
What sort of a cat mom am I who has absolutely no idea what goes through Fuqua's mind when he watches TV? One of my friends wondered if Fuqua availed himself of the healthy snack of pears, there within easy reach. Well, it's true, Fuqua loves to bite the stems off the pears if given the chance!

In addition to Fantasia, he has been known to watch all of the Charlie Brown holiday specials, as well as the magic of illusionists Penn and Teller. A little feline sleight-of-hand . . .

"A cat is more intelligent
than people believe,
and can be taught any crime"
[or magic trick].
~ Mark Twain ~

In his more limber days,
Fuqua enjoyed the Beach Body exercise videos.

When it comes to the origin and destiny of cats, Mark Twain had the right idea, and I'm sure that Fuqua and his little brother Lester would agree:

I urged that kings were dangerous.

Clarence said, then have cats. He was sure that a royal family of cats would answer every purpose. They would be as useful as any other royal family, they would know as much, they would have the same virtues and the same treacheries, the same disposition to get up shindies with other royal cats, they would be laughably vain and absurd and never know it, they would be wholly inexpensive, finally, they would have as sound a divine right as any other royal house. ... The worship of royalty being founded in unreason, these graceful and harmless cats would easily become as sacred as any other royalties, and indeed more so, because it would presently be noticed that they hanged nobody, beheaded nobody, imprisoned nobody, inflicted no cruelties or injustices of any sort, and so must be worthy of a deeper love and reverence than the customary human king, and would certainly get it. (see p 515)

- A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court

Next Fortnightly Post
Saturday February 14th

Between now and then, read

Previous cat quotes on THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blogs

Thoreau: The Size of Grief
Twain: A Perfect House
Twain: Halloween Happy Cats

www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.com

A Bright Golden Haze

"AMBER WAVES OF GRAIN"
~ ACCUSTOMED, CEREMONIOUS ~

" . . . all the fields . . . glow
Like flashing seas of green . . .
[like] running fiery torchmen"

Finding these red leaves among the evergreens reminded me of Helen Hunt Jackson's juxtaposition of poppies among the wheat. In the imagery of her sonnet, the red petals are first "torchmen" then "wine." As in bread and wine, spiritual sustenance as well as physical:

Poppies on the Wheat

Along Ancona's hills the shimmering heat,
A tropic tide of air with ebb and flow
Bathes all the fields of wheat until they glow
Like flashing seas of green, which toss and beat
Around the vines. The poppies lithe and fleet
Seem running, fiery torchmen, to and fro
To mark the shore.

The farmer does not know
That they are there. He walks with heavy feet,
Counting the bread and wine by autumn's gain,
But I,—I smile to think that days remain
Perhaps to me in which, though bread be sweet
No more, and red wine warm my blood in vain,
I shall be glad remembering how the fleet,
Lithe poppies ran like torchmen with the wheat.

by Helen Hunt Jackson (1830 – 1885)
Connection to Emily Dickinson

"A Bright Golden Haze"

Throughout the course of his life, author Hamlin Garland, lived from sea to shining sea; but his fiction, non-fiction, and poetry remained focused on the American Midwest and -- as this poem illustrates -- upon the land beneath his feet. Similar to Jackson's sonnet above, bread and wine are honored here, amidst a dazzling array of color, from russet to amber to olive:

Color in the Wheat

Like liquid gold the wheat field lies,
A marvel of yellow and russet and green,
That ripples and runs, that floats and flies,
With the subtle shadows, the change, the sheen,
That play in the golden hair of a girl,—
A ripple of amber—a flare
Of light sweeping after—a curl
In the hollows like swirling feet
Of fairy waltzers, the colors run
To the western sun
Through the deeps of the ripening wheat.

Broad as the fleckless, soaring sky,
Mysterious, fair as the moon-led sea,
The vast plain flames on the dazzled eye
Under the fierce sun’s alchemy.
The slow hawk stoops
To his prey in the deeps;
The sunflower droops
To the lazy wave; the wind sleeps—
Then swirling in dazzling links and loops,
A riot of shadow and shine,
A glory of olive and amber and wine,
To the westering sun the colors run
Through the deeps of the ripening wheat.

O glorious land! My western land,
Outspread beneath the setting sun!
Once more amid your swells, I stand,
And cross your sod-lands dry and dun.
I hear the jocund calls of men
Who sweep amid the ripened grain
With swift, stern reapers; once again
The evening splendor floods the plain,
The crickets’ chime
Makes pauseless rhyme,
And toward the sun,
The colors run
Before the wind’s feet
In the wheat!

by Hamlin Garland (1860 – 1940)
Connection to Henry George / source

"Like liquid gold"
See also: Earth Day & Facebook

All photos:
Kirksville, Missouri ~ October 2024
Next Fortnightly Post
Wednesday, January 28th

Between now and then, read
THE QUOTIDIAN KIT
my shorter, almost daily blogs
www.dailykitticarriker.blogspot.com

Looking for a good book? Try
KITTI'S LIST
my running list of recent reading
www.kittislist.blogsppot.com