a_tribe_of_affections fyn gula we sat, the five of us, in the sweet smelling barn dolefully evaluating the dwindling hay supply, exercising futility in attempts to scratch up finances when fragile meows were heard from the upper corner. jamie hopped over the neatly stacked bales and climbed into the beams of sunlight pouring through the slats of weathered boards. with a squeal, she announced the discovery of moonie nursing three kittens. we knew she was pregnant, but had no idea where she would have the litter. one by one, we entered the golden world and silently admired the wonder. the kittens, a mixture of black and white like a bag of spilled oreos, looked to be already big enough to hold. i looked around. the sunlight was painting blond streaks in jamie's hair. maris's eyes were a green i'd never seen before. liv was on her hands and knees when rabbit suddenly said, "i bet pete skejl would take a cord of oak for a hundred bales." he was right. so later, we load the pick-up while the girls watch, each with a kitten in their arms. 010331 ... monadh what a wonderful dittie 010401 ... farmfish um, it's time to call pete again. 011020 what's it to you? who go blather from