Imaginary Landscape

Photo by John Rogers Several of my acquaintances are fans of my ginger cat, Wally. So I thought I would leave the morose blog entries behind for a change and tell you about how Wally came to adopt us. It was the spring of 2012. We were still living in the 14 x 20 cabin we'd had trailered onto the place in August 2011 after the house burned down. The new house was not yet under construction and with all our accoutrement for daily living, a minimum amount of clothing for both teaching and farm work, and all the paperwork that resulted from insurance claims, mortgage pay outs, and ideas for the new house (plus an elderly dog), we were pretty tightly packed in. Population explosion Every spring we have a cat population explosion on the farm. I also suspect that there are signs erected in various parts of the county that read, "Free Food at the Joneses," written in a language only felines understand. Our "farm cats" are feral, and we don't have the time

I still remember the day, a little more than three years ago now. We were stuck in that little cabin because the progress on building the house had hit half a dozen snags. I was just getting over the flu, and it was cold outside, so my husband was feeding the horses while I waited to start supper. My mobile phone rang, and someone from somewhere in Georgia asked for my husband. I was ugly. I hate spam phone calls and am suspicious of anyone who contacts me electronically who I don't know. But it felt – bad. Adrenaline suddenly coursed through my veins, and I felt as if I were buzzing all over -- vibrating. The caller asked when my husband would be available. I told them to call back in about 30 minutes, and they hung up. I started to pace. Who would be calling him on my phone? Who would be calling from Georgia? It had to be bad news, but what kind of bad news would come from Georgia – especially a place I'd never heard of – Gainesville? His oldest daughter had recently been