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Something Blue  Our story tonight is called Something Blue, and it brings us a little closer to a much anticipated event in the village of Nothing Much. It’s a story about autumn skies and turning leaves. It’s also about a kitten wrapped in a shawl, star anise and peppermint, and letting yourself love again after loss. There was a sycamore tree on the far side of the rose garden at the Inn. She had once held a treehouse in her branches but that was many, many years ago. One late spring a wind storm had brought it tumbling down and it had never been rebuilt, but there remained enough of the ladder, smallish wood planks nailed into the trunk - that with a bit of care, one could climb up and settle into the crook of the first hearty branch. And for a cat, it was even easier. And so we sat, me and my dear Cinder. She was a small grey cat who walked on silent paws and watched me with yellow eyes. I leaned back against a branch and she climbed deftly into my lap. We turned our faces up to the sky. The leaves around us were just beginning to turn and would soon be the colour of Cinder’s eyes. Beyond their canopy we were watching for the weather to turn, for the day to brighten and the clouds to clear. Today was the day it seems the whole village had been waiting for. A wedding, here at the Inn .. and we were trying to deliver our gift to the happy couple. Cinder and I had known the bride for a few years, and if we did say so ourselves, had a hand (and a paw) in their love story. It started when Cinder found a tiny orange kitten, lost and alone on a cold day. She’d brought her to our shop in downtown Nothing Much, dragged her through the cat flap by the scruff of her neck and set her in my lap as I sat in the big winged armchair by the window. I’d wrapped her in my shawl and gone to find a dish and some food. Once she’d eaten and fallen asleep in Cinder’s bed, we looked at each other and tried to decide what to do next. As I often do when I’m in need of a bit of guidance and inspiration, I took my Grandmother’s grimoire down from its place on the shelf and paged through it. I’d inherited this book (and my talents) from her and it often felt like she could still talk to me through the book. How many times had I come to it with a question and opened it straight to the page with the answer? That day I’d held the book in my hands and looked at the small cat curled up at my feet and wondered where she should be. Was someone missing her? Was she meant to stay with me and Cinder? I let the book fall open and my eyes landed on the words “lost and found,” a spell for location and placement. “Thank you Gran” I’d whispered as I read her directions. The spell involved a tricky kind of knot tied with yarn or string and as I sat down at my table I looked down to see Cinder dragging a skein of blue yarn out of my knitting basket. “Thanks to you too!” I said as I reached down for it. I cut a stretch of the fibre and as I tied it per Gran’s instructions, I thought about the orange kitten. I found a few of her hairs on my shirt and I tied them into the knot as well. Before I’d even finished it, I knew where she was meant to end up. This is often how spells worked for me. The mere act of focusing part of my mind on the process frees up another part to intuit what is needed and how to bring it about. I had a friend who’d lost her beloved cat a few years before and part of the wound of grief his passing had left behind was still unhealed. The chamber of her heart that wanted to love was closed up. She was stuck and I think didn’t even know it. And here was this irresistible kitten, small and in need .. who I felt sure would win over my friend in an instant. Who would force her heart open and let the light into its closed up corners. So I tucked the little girl into my coat, buttoning it up around her and Cinder and I walked over to my friends house. The snow began to fall. I’d realized as I was tying that knot that if I knocked on her door and tried to convince her to take the kitten in, the spell might fall apart. No, it would cause her to make the decision with her head .. and we needed to deal directly with her heart. So we waited till it felt like the time was right and I set the little cat down at the edge of her front walk. She didn’t give me a backwards glance. I think she knew she was home. She just started leaving tiny paw prints in the fresh snow all around the front door then ducked under a shrub in the yard. From a distance I saw my friend come around the corner of her house. She spotted the prints and stopped short. Cinder jumped up onto my shoulder and purred as we watched her face shift, her eyes followed the prints. It had taken a little while. A cardboard box with a blanket and a dish of borrowed kibble from the neighbour - but eventually they’d found each other and that moment had marked a shift for my friend. Not all at once, but bit by bit she’d become more willing to ride the ups and downs of loving another. Next, she and the kitten she’d named Marmalade made room in their house for a little scruffy pup named Crumb. And here we were, after a few more turns in the road .. on her wedding day, marrying a man she’d come to love after his Bluebird had brought them closer. From our spot in the tree, their love story fresh in my mind, I peeked up again at the sky. I knew they’d be needing something blue for the wedding and my gift to them was (fingers crossed) a blue sky, clear excellent weather for the wedding taking place soon out by the lake. The inn keeper had called me in fact when the date was first decided upon and asked my opinion. I remember standing by the stove in the shop with the phone in my hand, looking down into my simmer pot which was steaming scents of cinnamon, star anise and peppermint into the air - all good for waking up my second sight. I’d asked the inn keeper to repeat the date again, and as she did, let my attention travel through my body, not trying to do anything really, just listening for how it felt. “Blue skies my friend!” I’d said into the phone. But they’d been grey when we’d woken so we’d come to keep watch from this old sycamore. I laid my hand on the rough bark beside me and imagined the whole environment around us shifting. The chill in the air being driven out as the clouds rolled back. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes and breathed deeply thinking of my friend standing in her dress by the lake. The afternoon sun shining down around her and her sweetheart. I smelled it before I saw it, like a hayride on a crisp day, the sun hitting the dry leaves ready to fall. When I opened my eyes, the skies were a bright September blue and down the drive of the Inn, a slow procession of guests were arriving. Cinder climbed up onto my shoulder and we descended down the old treehouse ladder. It was nearly time. Nothing Much Happens |
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  NBA PLAYOFFS New York Knicks vs Indiana Pacers .
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Happy first day of Fall.
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Really lovely. 
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Really lovely.
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