Hello. I'm the cat.

Hello.  I'm the cat.  Just like the title says.  No home is complete me, or at least someone like me.

Although, I am the cutest.

I am in charge of the following:

1. Rodent control
2. Bird watching
3. Sun bathing
4. Purring
5. Clawing my mother in conspicuous places
6. Teasing the dogs

Number 6 is a winter sport.  Mom brings both dogs out on leashes.  I dash in front of them, and the dogs pull Mom across the snow-packed yard.  She gets to ski, the dogs get to exercise, and I get to chuckle.  Works for everyone.

Did I mention I was the cutest?

Festivus, the cat

The dinosaur farm

It's been frigid cold here in NW PA, much like the rest of the United States this week.  This leaves ample time to be inside and work on creative passions--like blogging--but it is not the best motivator for taking photos.  At least not for me!  I like to feel the button on the camera when I push it.

Nonetheless, the best medicine for cold weather in January is movement--up and out of my seat, bundled up, and to my vehicle.  A Canon in one hand, some coffee for added warmth in the other. 

One of the things I find myself photographing over and over is barns.  This particular barn is just a few miles down the road.  I've photographed it in just about every season and soon, I fear, its owners (who still live in the adjacent house) will surely have me arrested for stalking.

The other side of the barn is completely fallen in.  But this must have once been a beautiful farm, I'm sure.  It's now living its final years as a would-be ghost of its own past.  A reminder, perhaps, of why the small farm today is so important to regenerate.  We've become a nation of convenience, driving one of our country's mainstays into extinction.  The local farmer is a dinosaur on his own acreage.

Under a watchful eye

In this house, we are always under a watchful eye...actually, make that "eyes".  One of those sets of eyes belongs to our beloved greyhound, Sam.  We don't know much about Sam's background--he is from somewhere in New York state.  The sparse paperwork we do have indicates Sam never ran a greyhound race.  Having lived with him now for about 6 years, this is not a surprise to either me or my husband. 

The speed at which he appears in this picture is his typical speed of the day.  Except when it snows.  And the snow gets between his toes.  We do not like snow between our toes and, therefore, must use our greyt greyhound powers to sled mom and Ginger (our other dog) across the property and to the safety and warmth of the fireplace. 

"Be prompt with dinner tonight, Mom.  I needs my energies!"

Lol.  Mary Ann