We had our annual Fall cleanup at the church this morning. When I first started working at the church and became so heavily involved with the Trustee's of the properties, it just magically (ehm, ehm) worked out that I was unavailable for the Spring & Fall cleanups. This lasted a year. Since then, I've found that I love manual labor. Which isn't much of a surprise, because I love my manual transmission, too. That's beside the point. I love working hard for short spurts of time and reaping the benefits of that hard work, e.g. being sore the next day. I love that. I may need a psychologist to figure out why. And I love the people who show up to help. Love, love, love them. It's always a fun time in the midst of straining a back muscle.
Today, though, I didn't last as long as I usually do. I've decided I'm only good for about 3 hours of manual labor. By 11:00, I was ready to call it quits. But I didn't. When I see other people working, it guilts me into working, too. Isn't life grand?
And what the hell is the point of raking leaves? Will someone explain it to me? I know it makes your yard look nice....for the brief period before the snow falls. But seriously. Why waste the effort? I just don't see the point. They're all going to blow away anyway. Regardless of how I feel about leaf raking, I did my duty. I wish my apartment complex would do the same. I feel like I'm being attacked by leaves every time I walk out the door. Can leaves attack? I think so.
I came home smelling like a bonfire. Even though it's dry as Arizona in the summer ("it's a dry heat!"....yeah, whatever. It's still hot as Hades.), we had a large fire going in our 'burn pile'. Little did we know before we started the massive, heat-searing fire was there a litter of kittens living upwind of the fire. Who would have thought a mama cat would have a litter of kittens there of all places??? We think they survived. I'm going with that. Before you start to think I'm a totally heartless woman, I did try to call our county animal control and they told me, quote, We do not take cats, unquote. Why the hell not?
I'm a cat lover. I'm also a "good" dog lover....meaning, if your dog is good, I'll love it. I'm an animal lover. Seeing those kittens down there near the burn pile broke my heart. BUT, I'm also a farm girl. And I'm a realist. Not every animal is going to live. Hell, Elvis and Chica are going to die some day...I keep waiting for that day to come and it seems further and further away. And when they do, yes, my heart will break. Yes, I'll bawl my eyes out. But I'll probably put them in a large shoebox and find a country road to go bury them. I'm not one of those people who will cremate them and keep their ashes. And I'm definitely not one of those people to have them stuffed. Gross. When they go, they go. When I go, I go. No big deal.
Do you know how many cats I lost on the farm? Dozens. Either they were frozen to death, killed by a opposum, diseased, run over, or eaten up by the car (they'd crawl under the car, near the engine, and die enroute). Gruesome. But that's the way of life, isn't it? I'd find them, bawl my eyes out, we'd have a funeral, life would go on.
We didn't have a funeral for the little kittens, because even though they'll probably die from smoke inhalation, we think they're still alive. I'm hoping their "mom" comes back and moves them to a safer place. Or maybe that's the perfect place.
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